Philip had met Jesus. Jesus had beckoned to him with two simple words: “Follow Me!” 

No explanations. No promises of miracles. No set expectations. Just that invitation. Or was it a command? Maybe—somehow—both. Philip went and found Nathanael and told him about Jesus, making extraordinary claims about this man’s identity:  

“We have found the one Moses wrote about in the law, and the prophets also wrote about—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph” (John 1:45). 

Nathanael was dubious: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  

Philip followed the example of Jesus. He didn’t offer any apologetic proofs. He failed to do much convincing. He didn’t produce any evidence. He responded to Nathanael’s doubts with three words—one more than Jesus gave to him:  

“Come and see.” 

What do those words mean?

A command? An invitation? Or maybe a dare? That seems more like it. 

“I don’t have to convince you, Nathanael. I dare you to come and see for yourself. Check it out.” 

It might seem irresponsible at first, like Philip had an obligation to something more. He had the responsibility to offer that convincing proof which backed up his outlandish claims. But for some reason, he felt no need. Now maybe it was because he didn’t have any of those proofs. Or the evidence. Or the intelligence to make a rational argument. Or maybe it was because Philip knew that his job wasn’t to do the convincing. His job was to make the dare. 

“Come and see.”  

It’s an outrageously confident statement. Like someone who has just tried chocolate ice cream for the first time trying to get someone to take a bite. It’s the claim of one who is radically sure of the goodness of what he’s presenting and allows it to speak for itself. 

Just take a bite. Just savor it. Come and see. 

This is the statement of those who know the power of the gospel for salvation. It’s not, “Let me convince you.” Nor is it, “Let me explain to you how it works.” It’s “Come and see.” 

It’s the claim of a man who was destined to see a supposed dead man walk into a locked room. Of a man who would preach the gospel to the unclean and outrun an Ethiopian’s chariot. Of one who would preach as far and wide as southeast Asia. And his evangelistic fervor started with these simple words: 

“Come and see.” 

Do we believe that? Do we believe in the power of the gospel? Do we trust that Jesus is more than convincing? Do we believe God melts hearts of stone and breathes life into dry bones? Do we trust that He can do what I cannot? 

If so, then these words have a place in our vocabularies, too. 

“Come and see.” Over and over again.