In keeping with my summer study looking at the questions Jesus asked, I'm skipping from Matthew to John--one synoptic and then on to the gospel writer who captures some different sides of the mystery of Jesus.
The second question that Jesus asks (at least in the NRSV) is directed to Nathanael at the end of John chapter 1. Nathanael is invited to "come and see" the Messiah from Nazareth by Phillip, who was just recently called by Jesus to follow him.
Nathanael, like many of you, is a bit skeptical and cynical. "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" It's kind of like how Virginia think about West Virginia and North Carolina think about South Carolina and how South Carolina thinks about...well, I'm not exactly sure who South Carolina compares favorably towards.
Nazareth was a summarily under-whelming place. And Nathanael doubts that someone as great as the Messiah could come from there.
But he comes, upon the insistence of Phillip. Jesus calls him by name immediately and declares that he "saw" Nathanael under the fig tree. Nathanael is shocked and utters a strong declaration of Jesus' Messiah-ship right on the spot.
Jesus asks (in summary): "Do you believe because I said I saw you? You will see greater things than these!"
I pondered this question and the pronouncement afterward. And it pressed me to ask this question: where have I been too easily satisfied with what I know of Jesus? How have I allowed only just a few pieces of understanding or insight or comprehension to satisfy what needs to be an insatiable hunger?
If Jesus is the (as he's called in the Scriptures) the source of all wisdom, truth, knowledge, beauty, power, and love to an infinite degree, have I even begun to scratch the surface of who he is and what he has to offer?
Do I settle for believing in a very, very small Jesus who I've seen do a handful of spectacular things over the course of parts of my life? Or am I willing to take Jesus up on this invitation: I will see greater things than these if I will set my heart and mind and imagination on a journey. If I will be fixed on him and be willing to follow him into the infinite expanse of his joy.
So I'm praying for my little shell around Jesus to be cracked. I'm praying for my imagination and heart to be stirred and my mind to be awakened. I'm taking a deep breath and strapping on my hiking boots. There's vast, undiscovered Jesus country out there waiting to drench me in wonder and admiration and sober-minded awe.
If only I wouldn't be quite so easily satisfied.
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