Come and See
A Day in the Life
There is something deeply human about Andrew’s question in John 1. Standing face to face with Jesus for the first time, his instinct is not to make a declaration but to ask a practical question: “Rabbi… where are You staying?” It is the kind of question we ask when we sense that something important is unfolding but do not yet know how to enter it. Jesus’ reply is strikingly simple: “Come and see.” He does not begin with explanation or credentials. He offers presence. He invites Andrew not into an argument or a lecture, but into shared time and shared space. “They came and saw where He was staying, and remained with Him that day.” The discovery of who Jesus is begins not with answers, but with abiding.
As I reflect on this moment, I am reminded how often we prefer discussion over discipleship. For centuries, Israel had debated the Messiah—His origin, His authority, His work. Andrew himself had listened carefully to John the Baptist and carried the longings of generations in his heart. Yet when the Messiah finally stands before him, Jesus does not satisfy that longing by resolving every theological tension. Instead, He turns and walks. Andrew’s education will come through proximity. Christianity, at its core, is not first a system to be mastered but a life to be shared. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously wrote, “Christianity without discipleship is always Christianity without Christ.” Andrew will not learn who Jesus is by standing still; he will learn by moving with Him.
What strikes me is that Jesus does not dismiss questions—He reframes them. Andrew’s many unspoken questions will be answered, but not in the order or manner he expects. They will be answered as he watches Jesus touch the sick, speak with authority, withdraw to pray, and walk steadily toward obedience. The Greek word used for “remained” in John 1:39 comes from menō, a verb that means to stay, to abide, to dwell. This is not a brief visit. It is the beginning of a pattern. Knowledge of Christ grows not from occasional curiosity but from sustained companionship. As one commentator notes, “The invitation ‘Come and see’ is the first step in the long schooling of faith, where understanding follows obedience, not the other way around.”
This passage gently confronts a modern temptation. We often wait for clarity before commitment. We tell ourselves that once our questions are settled, once the uncertainties are resolved, then we will follow more closely. Jesus reverses that sequence. There are moments in every believer’s life when standing still with a list of questions becomes a way of postponing trust. At those crossroads, Jesus does not always explain Himself. He simply says, “Follow Me.” As Augustine observed centuries ago, “Understanding is the reward of faith. Therefore, seek not to understand that you may believe, but believe that you may understand.” Andrew’s experience bears this out. By walking with Jesus, he will eventually confess Him not merely as Rabbi, but as the Christ.
Walking with Jesus also means discovering that God is not an idea to be analyzed but a presence to be encountered. Andrew does not merely learn about God; he experiences Him in motion. He watches mercy take shape in real time. He hears wisdom spoken into ordinary situations. He sees power expressed not for spectacle, but for restoration. In this sense, discipleship is experiential theology. It is theology learned on the road, through obedience, failure, and grace. When I read this passage, I am reminded that many of my own questions were not answered in prayer closets alone, but in the act of following—through serving others, through seasons of uncertainty, through daily obedience that slowly clarified what argument never could.
The invitation “Come and see” still echoes today. It meets us in moments when faith feels abstract or stalled. It calls us away from endless analysis and into lived trust. It assures us that Jesus is not afraid of our questions, but He refuses to let them become excuses for distance. As we walk with Him, answers emerge—sometimes quietly, sometimes unexpectedly—but always in the context of relationship. What we discover is often far richer than what we thought we were asking. As N. T. Wright has written, “The Gospels are not primarily about information but about invitation—invitation into a way of life shaped by Jesus Himself.”
If you find yourself today at a crossroads with a hundred questions pressing in, hear Jesus’ words anew. Put on your shoes. Step onto the road. Stay with Him for the day. In that abiding, you will encounter not just explanations, but transformation.
For further reflection on discipleship and following Jesus in John’s Gospel, see this article from BibleProject:
https://bibleproject.com/articles/what-does-it-mean-to-follow-jesus/
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