Sunday, February 1, 2026
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
John 1:35-42
The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).
We live in a world in which absolutely everyone is absolutely sure of absolutely everything all of the time. Now maybe we humans have always been like that, but social media now provides an unprecedented platform for us to spread our so-called expertise to anyone and everyone who will listen.
Well, I’m not listening. I’m skeptical by nature. And I learned a long time ago that being loud doesn’t make you right. And I learned a long time ago that opinions are like noses. Everybody has one.
So, I’m a skeptic. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in the concept of the truth. It’s just that the capital “T” truth is often much bigger than mere words. I think that the truth is just as likely to be an experience as it is an explanation. When Jesus said: “You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free,” he was speaking of spiritual transformation. And that’s much bigger than words.
Isn’t it odd, then, that most folks think of religion as being mostly about words. It’s our own fault, really. We have encouraged this by our confident declarative statements and elegant creeds and official pronouncements; all delivered with great authority.
That’s exactly the kind of religion I was raised on. The Christian faith was summed up as having all the correct words about Jesus. But if you had any questions, it was best to keep those to yourself because questions were a sign of doubt.
In his wonderful book, JESUS IS THE QUESTION, retired UCC pastor Martin Copenhaver challenges the idea that the Christian faith can be or even should be summed up in neat dogmatic statements. Copenhaver goes back to the source and points out that in the four Gospels, Jesus is asked 183 questions by other people. But of those 183 questions, Jesus only answered between three and eight of them. When asked a question, our Lord often replied with a question. Or he told an open-ended story. Or he changed the topic altogether. So, there must be something potentially transformative about ambiguity and the questions.
In fact, in the Gospel lesson of the day, we learn that the very first words that Jesus ever spoke to his very first disciples were in the form of a question.
On the day after Jesus was baptized by his cousin John, he came back to the scene. And when John saw Jesus approaching, he cried out: “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!” And then the very next day, the very same thing happened again. John was preaching. Jesus approached, and John proclaimed: “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
And this time, John’s message got through to two of his own disciples. And they decided to change churches, right then and there, and started to follow Jesus instead of John.
Now when folks want to join our church, we really roll out the welcome mat. But not Jesus. Instead, he turned around, gave them the once-over, and asked: “What are you looking for?”
With that question, Jesus goes right to the heart of the matter. Because the human quest for meaning has always been the same. We’re all looking for something. In fact, most of you are here today as part of a quest.
So, what is it that you seek? Why are you here? Are you looking for peace in a world that is more chaotic and uncertain by the day? Is it hope - that increasingly rare commodity? Or maybe you’re hunting for courage, because you’re coming to understand that resisting evil is not for the faint of heart. Or maybe it is something as simple and profound as forgiveness.
Jesus turned to these new disciples and asked them what they wanted. But instead of answering him, they answered his question with a question of their own, and one that appears to be a non-sequitur. “Jesus,” they asked, “where are you staying?”
Now, that can read like a rather inane question. But that’s mostly the fault of translation and the limitations of the English language. Because they weren’t asking Jesus what his address was. Instead, they were asking: “Rabbi, where is it that you dwell, rest, settle, endure, abide.” Rabbi, where is it that we might find you on any given day, under any given circumstance?
And this time Jesus answered a question, although not with so many words. He simply replied: “Come and see.”
And what did they see? What do we?
In 25th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus plainly tells us where we can find him. He said: “I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger, and you welcomed me, I was naked, and you gave me clothing, I was sick, and you took care of me, I was in prison, and you visited me.’
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’
Come and see.
In these troubling days of such division and anger and loud, bellicose words from every conceivable point of view, I often worry about how this congregation will hold together, knowing that our words do not always agree. And because I worry, it’s very tempting for me on a Sunday morning to practice a kind of passive agnosticism about the state of the world and the very real suffering of God’s children, for fear that to even acknowledge that suffering will somehow divide us.
But in my heart, I know that silent and fearful agnosticism cannot be my answer. In fact, it’s not the answer for anyone who claims to follow the One who walks among the least, the last, and the lost and invites us to: Come and see.
Because seeing is believing. And once we open our eyes; once we repent of the idolatry of our words; once we crack open our hardened hearts, then wonder of wonders, we discover that we don’t need to agree about why people are hungry. We just need to feed them. We don’t need to agree about why people are naked. We just need to clothe them. We don’t need to agree about why folks are estranged or despised or on the margins. We just need to embrace them and stand with them and protect them.
Because words can sometimes reflect the truth. But sacrificial love in action IS the truth.
Come and see.
Sunday, February 1, 2026
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
John 1:35-42
The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).
We live in a world in which absolutely everyone is absolutely sure of absolutely everything all of the time. Now maybe we humans have always been like that, but social media now provides an unprecedented platform for us to spread our so-called expertise to anyone and everyone who will listen.
Well, I’m not listening. I’m skeptical by nature. And I learned a long time ago that being loud doesn’t make you right. And I learned a long time ago that opinions are like noses. Everybody has one.
So, I’m a skeptic. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in the concept of the truth. It’s just that the capital “T” truth is often much bigger than mere words. I think that the truth is just as likely to be an experience as it is an explanation. When Jesus said: “You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free,” he was speaking of spiritual transformation. And that’s much bigger than words.
Isn’t it odd, then, that most folks think of religion as being mostly about words. It’s our own fault, really. We have encouraged this by our confident declarative statements and elegant creeds and official pronouncements; all delivered with great authority.
That’s exactly the kind of religion I was raised on. The Christian faith was summed up as having all the correct words about Jesus. But if you had any questions, it was best to keep those to yourself because questions were a sign of doubt.
In his wonderful book, JESUS IS THE QUESTION, retired UCC pastor Martin Copenhaver challenges the idea that the Christian faith can be or even should be summed up in neat dogmatic statements. Copenhaver goes back to the source and points out that in the four Gospels, Jesus is asked 183 questions by other people. But of those 183 questions, Jesus only answered between three and eight of them. When asked a question, our Lord often replied with a question. Or he told an open-ended story. Or he changed the topic altogether. So, there must be something potentially transformative about ambiguity and the questions.
In fact, in the Gospel lesson of the day, we learn that the very first words that Jesus ever spoke to his very first disciples were in the form of a question.
On the day after Jesus was baptized by his cousin John, he came back to the scene. And when John saw Jesus approaching, he cried out: “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!” And then the very next day, the very same thing happened again. John was preaching. Jesus approached, and John proclaimed: “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
And this time, John’s message got through to two of his own disciples. And they decided to change churches, right then and there, and started to follow Jesus instead of John.
Now when folks want to join our church, we really roll out the welcome mat. But not Jesus. Instead, he turned around, gave them the once-over, and asked: “What are you looking for?”
With that question, Jesus goes right to the heart of the matter. Because the human quest for meaning has always been the same. We’re all looking for something. In fact, most of you are here today as part of a quest.
So, what is it that you seek? Why are you here? Are you looking for peace in a world that is more chaotic and uncertain by the day? Is it hope - that increasingly rare commodity? Or maybe you’re hunting for courage, because you’re coming to understand that resisting evil is not for the faint of heart. Or maybe it is something as simple and profound as forgiveness.
Jesus turned to these new disciples and asked them what they wanted. But instead of answering him, they answered his question with a question of their own, and one that appears to be a non-sequitur. “Jesus,” they asked, “where are you staying?”
Now, that can read like a rather inane question. But that’s mostly the fault of translation and the limitations of the English language. Because they weren’t asking Jesus what his address was. Instead, they were asking: “Rabbi, where is it that you dwell, rest, settle, endure, abide.” Rabbi, where is it that we might find you on any given day, under any given circumstance?
And this time Jesus answered a question, although not with so many words. He simply replied: “Come and see.”
And what did they see? What do we?
In 25th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus plainly tells us where we can find him. He said: “I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger, and you welcomed me, I was naked, and you gave me clothing, I was sick, and you took care of me, I was in prison, and you visited me.’
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’
Come and see.
In these troubling days of such division and anger and loud, bellicose words from every conceivable point of view, I often worry about how this congregation will hold together, knowing that our words do not always agree. And because I worry, it’s very tempting for me on a Sunday morning to practice a kind of passive agnosticism about the state of the world and the very real suffering of God’s children, for fear that to even acknowledge that suffering will somehow divide us.
But in my heart, I know that silent and fearful agnosticism cannot be my answer. In fact, it’s not the answer for anyone who claims to follow the One who walks among the least, the last, and the lost and invites us to: Come and see.
Because seeing is believing. And once we open our eyes; once we repent of the idolatry of our words; once we crack open our hardened hearts, then wonder of wonders, we discover that we don’t need to agree about why people are hungry. We just need to feed them. We don’t need to agree about why people are naked. We just need to clothe them. We don’t need to agree about why folks are estranged or despised or on the margins. We just need to embrace them and stand with them and protect them.
Because words can sometimes reflect the truth. But sacrificial love in action IS the truth.
Come and see.
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