What Are You Seeking?
At the turning of the year,
when the days are short
and the lights of Christmas
are being packed away,
we come to a Gospel passage
that feels like a new beginning.
A fresh call. A simple
invitation.
A question from Jesus that
speaks straight into the heart
of anyone who has ever stood
at a crossroads:
What are you seeking?
It’s such a disarming question.
Honest, gentle, and open.
Jesus does not command the
first disciples to believe.
He does not test them, examine
them, interrogate them,
or insist that they sign up to
a doctrinal statement.
He simply turns, sees them
following him, and asks:
What are you seeking?
I wonder how we would answer.
Perhaps we come seeking peace
in a troubled world,
or purpose in a shifting
culture,
or courage in uncertain times.
Perhaps we come seeking a place
to belong,
a way of living that feels
authentic,
or a hope that does not
collapse under pressure.
Every one of us is seeking
something.
And the Gospel begins by
telling us
that the God who calls us sees
us clearly,
knows us deeply, and invites
us graciously.
This is a story of calling.
But it is also a story of
desire.
A story of longing. A story of
invitation.
And like all stories of calling, it is not about one shining moment,
but about the beginning of a
journey.
John the Baptist as the
First Witness: Faith that Points Beyond Itself
The passage begins, curiously,
not with Jesus and not with the disciples,
but with John the Baptist.
John stands with two of his own
followers,
and as Jesus walks past, John
announces:
Behold, the Lamb of God.
It’s a remarkable moment of
humility.
John’s whole ministry — his
identity, his community, his momentum —
all of it is now redirected
toward Jesus.
John is not the centre. John is the signpost.
And John teaches us something
essential about Christian faith:
that faith is always meant to
point beyond itself.
Our calling is not to build
little kingdoms with our name on them,
but to direct others toward
life in Christ.
To make space. To step aside.
To rejoice when someone
discovers a deeper connection with God
that takes them beyond where
we had brought them.
John shows us what it looks
like to let go —
to let those who have walked
with us be drawn into the life of Christ.
This is a deeply liberating
truth:
discipleship is not about
possession; it is about release.
The first disciples come to
Jesus not because Jesus sought them out,
but because John released
them.
Because John refused to cling.
Because John knew his calling was not to gather but to prepare,
not to keep but to open,
not to claim but to invite.
And so those two disciples
begin to follow Jesus,
tentatively, curiously,
perhaps hesitantly,
drawn by the witness of someone whose faith pointed beyond himself.
Jesus’ First Words: A
Question that Opens the Soul
When Jesus feels them behind
him,
he turns and asks his first
words in the Gospel of John:
What are you seeking? What
are you looking for?
Not: Who are you?
Not: What have you done?
Not: What do you believe?
Not: Why are you following me?
But: What are you seeking?
The question honours their
humanity before it asks anything of them.
It recognises that
discipleship begins with desire.
With longing.
With the deep hunger that lies
beneath all our searching.
And Jesus’ question teaches us
that God does not approach us with demands,
but with curiosity.
God does not start by prescribing, but by listening.
God does not begin with
judgement, but with welcome.
The first words of Jesus in
this Gospel
are not a command but an
invitation to honesty.
Perhaps this is something our
churches need to rediscover.
An invitation that honours the
searching heart.
An invitation
without fear.
An invitation without
coercion.
An invitation that trusts that the God who calls is also the God who draws.
So Jesus asks: What are you
seeking?
And they answer, somewhat
awkwardly:
Rabbi… where are you
staying?
Perhaps they don’t know what to
say.
Perhaps they are shy.
Perhaps they are afraid to reveal the deeper longing of their hearts.
But Jesus’ response shows that
their exact words don’t matter.
What matters is that they are
willing to approach him.
And Jesus answers: Come and
see.
Come and See: An Invitation
Without Pressure
Come and see — a
supremely gentle response.
No pressure. No manipulation.
No demand. Just openness.
Jesus does not say, “Believe in
me.”
He does not say, “Follow me
now, or else.”
He does not say, “Sign up to
this list of doctrines first.”
He simply says: Come and
see.
Come as you are.
Come without certainty.
Come with your questions.
Come with your doubts.
Come with your longing.
Come without knowing where it
will lead.
This is the shape of Christian
hospitality —
an open invitation without
strings attached.
A welcome that trusts God to do
the work in God’s time.
And so the disciples come.
They spend the day with Jesus.
They abide with him, sit with him,
walk with him, and talk with
him.
And in that simple, unhurried
presence,
something begins to awaken.
They find themselves drawn into
a new way of being,
a new beginning, a new
identity.
Faith begins, not with a creed,
but with an invitation to
spend time with Jesus.
Andrew’s First Act: Bringing
Someone Else
One of those first followers is
Andrew.
And what does he do after
spending a day with Jesus?
He finds his brother Peter and
says to him:
We have found the Messiah.
But notice the pattern:
First, Andrew spends time with
Jesus.
Then, Andrew shares what he has discovered.
Then, he brings someone else.
Evangelism begins with
encounter.
Not with persuasion. Not with
strategy.
But with personal
transformation.
Andrew becomes a witness
because he has been changed by
what he has seen.
And so Andrew brings Peter
— the future rock of the
church —
but the story doesn’t
celebrate Andrew’s success in “finding a top leader.”
Andrew doesn’t know any of
that.
Andrew simply brings the
person he loves most.
In a world obsessed with
results,
this story shows us the quiet,
uncalculated beauty
of sharing the love of God
with those closest to us.
The Gospel spreads relationship
by relationship,
not campaign by campaign.
Jesus Looks at Peter: Being
Seen by God
When Peter arrives, Jesus looks
at him and says:
You are Simon… you will be
called Peter.
Jesus sees who he is and who he
will become.
And this is perhaps the most
tender truth in the passage:
Jesus sees us long before we
know how to see ourselves.
Jesus sees potential that we
cannot yet imagine.
Jesus calls us forward into an
identity
that we do not yet know how to
inhabit.
Peter does not become “Peter”
that day.
It takes years, mistakes,
denial,
forgiveness, failure, and
resurrection.
Discipleship is a long, winding
journey, not a single decision.
But Jesus names the future in
him, planting a seed that will grow in time.
Perhaps Jesus is naming
something in us too.
Calling forth a courage we have not yet found.
Calling forth hope where we
fear there is none.
Calling forth faith where we feel fragile.
Calling forth leadership where
we feel inadequate.
Calling forth compassion where we feel tired.
Calling forth generosity where
we feel anxious.
Jesus sees who we are — and who
we can become.
Jesus Finds Philip: A Call
from the Outside In
The next day, Jesus finds
Philip.
Andrew and Peter were brought
to Jesus by someone they knew.
Philip is called directly by
Jesus.
This reminds us: there is no
single pattern to calling.
Some come through family.
Some through friendship.
Some through community.
Some are called quietly and directly in the stillness of their own soul.
God calls each of us in a way
we can hear.
And Philip responds simply.
No drama. No story. No
hesitation.
Just a yes arising from a
heart ready to receive.
But what Philip does next is
the heart of the story.
Philip and Nathanael:
Witness as Relationship, Not Argument
Because Philip finds Nathanael
and announces:
We have found the one Moses
wrote about… Jesus of Nazareth.
But Nathanael is sceptical,
asking:
Can anything good come out
of Nazareth?
We all know that scepticism.
The quick dismissal.
The prejudice.
The deeply ingrained
assumptions.
The weary suspicion of anything religious.
Nathanael sounds like many
people in our own lives.
People who have been wounded
by religion.
People who are cynical about institutions.
People who feel faith is for
other people, not for them.
People who have already made up their minds.
And how does Philip respond?
He does not argue.
He does not defend Nazareth.
He does not criticise Nathanael’s cynicism.
He simply says: Come and
see.
It is the same invitation Jesus
gave.
And Philip trusts the power of
encounter
more than the power of
argument.
This is a profound insight:
The Gospel is not advanced by
winning debates
but by offering hospitality.
“Come and see” is all we can
ever honestly say.
Come and see how God is at
work in my life.
Come and see what community looks like.
Come and see what grace feels
like.
Come and see what hope tastes like.
Come and see how justice is
made visible among us.
Come and see the God who welcomes without condition.
We cannot prove God.
But we can invite others into the presence where God is known.
Jesus Meets Nathanael: Being
Known Is the Heart of Faith
When Nathanael approaches,
Jesus greets him:
Here is truly an Israelite
in whom there is no deceit.
Jesus sees Nathanael’s honesty,
his bluntness, his straightforwardness.
Nathanael has not hidden his
scepticism, and Jesus respects that.
God’s welcome doesn’t require
us to hide our doubts.
God honours honest wrestling.
Nathanael, surprised, asks:
How do you know me?
And Jesus answers:
I saw you under the fig
tree.
No one knows exactly what that
moment meant for Nathanael,
but somehow it cuts through
his scepticism.
He realises that he is known —
profoundly, intimately, personally —
by the God who stands before
him.
And so the sceptic becomes the
believer:
Rabbi, you are the Son of
God.
Faith awakens when we know we
are seen.
To be known and loved at the
same time
— that is the heart of
discipleship.
Greater Things Than These: A
Promise of Transformation
Jesus then tells him:
You will see greater things
than these.
Discipleship begins with the
smallest step
— but it leads to a horizon we
cannot yet imagine.
Greater things:
Moments of grace.
Encounters of justice.
Restored communities.
Unexpected courage.
A glimpse of heaven breaking
into earth.
A life that becomes a blessing to others.
Discipleship is not static.
It moves, grows, stretches,
transforms.
It leads us deeper into the
heart of God.
What Does “Come and See”
Mean for Us Today?
This story is not a relic of
the past. It is a living invitation.
Come and see is for us
as well. It means:
– Let yourself be drawn into the presence of Christ.
– Take the next step, even
if you don’t know where it will lead.
– Be honest about your seeking.
– Invite others with
gentleness and freedom.
– Trust that God is already at work in their lives.
– Let God see you — the
real you — without fear.
– Discover that your life holds more potential than you dare imagine.
We live in a world hungry for
authentic invitation.
Hungry for welcome without
judgement.
Hungry for community that heals.
Hungry for justice that is
lived and not only proclaimed.
Hungry for a faith that listens more than it speaks.
Our calling as a church is to
echo Jesus’ words in everything we do:
Come and see.
Being a “Come and See”
Church
So how might Bloomsbury embody
this invitation?
By being a place where
questions are welcomed, not feared.
By being a community that
listens more than it talks.
By offering hospitality without agenda.
By letting people belong
before they believe.
By creating space where people can be truly seen and known.
By living a faith shaped by
justice, compassion, and courage.
By standing with the marginalised in ways that reveal Christ’s heart.
By inviting others not to a
programme but to a journey.
A “come and see” church trusts
that God is already at work in every life.
We do not do God’s work for
God.
We simply join it.
The Invitation for Us This
New Year
As this year begins, can we hear
again the question of Jesus:
What are you seeking?
And can we hear his gentle,
gracious invitation:
Come and see.
Come with your longing.
Come with your uncertainty.
Come with your hope.
Come with your wounds.
Come with your desire to grow, to change, to follow, to belong.
Come and see what God may make
of your life.
Come and see what God may make
of our life together.
A Year Shaped by Invitation
May this be a year of renewed
discipleship.
A year of deepening faith.
A year of growing justice.
A year of holy hospitality.
A year of invitation.
Jesus says, Come and see.
And so we come.
And we invite others.
And together, we discover the greater things God has prepared.
Amen.
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