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John 1:45–46 “Philip found Nathanael and told him, ‘We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.’ ‘Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?’ Nathanael asked. ‘Come and see,’ said Philip.”

Think

Nazareth wasn’t known for greatness. It was small, poor, unimpressive. It didn’t produce kings or scholars or anything that made the headlines. So when Philip told Nathanael that the long-awaited Messiah had come from there, the response was instant skepticism: “Nazareth? Can anything good come from there?”

That question still echoes, though we might ask it in different ways. Can anything good come from this place? From my story? From right now? It’s easy to assume that God’s work will show up in spectacular ways—in polished places, through powerful people, wrapped in something we already respect. But Jesus rarely follows our assumptions.

Philip didn’t argue or try to convince Nathanael with theology or hype. He just gave the simplest, most powerful invitation: “Come and see.”

This is the heart of Advent—an invitation not to figure everything out, but to move toward Jesus. To come and see for ourselves. Not to stand at a distance analyzing him, but to draw near enough to be changed.

When the wise men saw the star in the East, they didn’t just admire it. They moved. They left what was familiar and followed the signs into unknown territory, trusting that what they were seeking was worth the journey. Their travel wasn’t convenient. It wasn’t quick. But it was filled with expectation. They came ready to worship, not based on what they had already seen, but on the promise of who they hoped to find.

And when they arrived, it wasn’t to a palace. It wasn’t even to a newborn in a manger. By the time they found Jesus, he may have been a toddler, living in a humble home. Still, when they saw him, they bowed. They didn’t wait for clearer confirmation. They didn’t critique the setting. They saw a child—and they gave their worship.

This kind of movement matters. It’s not just about information; it’s about response. Worship doesn’t begin when we understand everything. It begins when we recognize who Jesus is and choose to come closer. That decision—to seek, to move, to kneel—is how we prepare room in our hearts for Christ, even now.

The Christmas season pulls us in many directions. There are lists to finish, events to attend, family dynamics to navigate, and expectations pressing in from every angle. In the noise, it’s easy to miss the invitation. But Jesus still calls to those who are willing to come and see.

Not everyone will respond. Some, like Nathanael, will doubt. Others, like Herod, will resist. Many will be too distracted to even notice. But the ones who take the step—who follow the star, who lean into the possibility that God is closer than we think—those are the ones who find him.

And when they do, they leave changed.

The wise men returned home by a different route. The shepherds went back to their fields praising God. Even Nathanael, after meeting Jesus face to face, declared, “You are the Son of God.” That’s what happens when we move from wondering to witnessing, from distance to devotion.

Jesus doesn’t demand that we come perfectly. He simply invites us to come honestly. Bring your doubt, your questions, your weary heart. Bring the stress of the season and the ache you haven’t been able to name. You don’t have to have it all sorted out. Just come.

The journey toward Jesus may be costly. It may stretch you, challenge your pride, or pull you out of the patterns that feel safe. But it will always be worth it. He is not just a beautiful story we retell each December. He is the King who still calls people to himself.

This Advent, don’t settle for admiring him from a distance. Don’t assume that what’s familiar is the same as what’s transformational. Take the risk of movement. Open the door. Say yes again. Come and see.

Apply

Where have you been standing at a distance from Jesus—through doubt, distraction, or discouragement? Take one intentional step toward him today. That might look like opening Scripture, carving out silence, or simply telling him honestly where you are. You don’t have to figure everything out. You just have to move.

Pray

Jesus, I hear your invitation and I want to respond. I confess how easy it is to stay at a distance, whether from fear, fatigue, or familiarity. But I don’t want to miss you. Draw my heart toward you today. Help me move past assumptions and distractions so I can see you for who you really are. I want to come closer, not just in belief, but in trust. In Jesus’ name. Amen.