John 1:35-51

“It’s Not What You Know, It’s Who You Know”

January 15, 2006

TV has mostly showing new shows this time of year. Sermons, on the other hand, are in reruns this week, at least on this channel. Which is to say I’ve preached this sermon before. Oh, not the whole sermon. But the gist of it. The sermon is about having an invitational faith, being an invitational church, about sharing our faith and inviting others to Christ and our church. The reason I’m preaching the sermon again is not that I’m lazy (though there is that sometimes) or that I can’t think of anything new to say (certainly not that), but that important things bear repeating. And I am likely to continue preaching this sermon until we become a truly invitational church; or at the very least, until I become a more invitational Christian.

There are times when the church grows dramatically, like wildfire—like the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit descended and 3000 were baptized in one day. But the church doesn’t usually grow that way. It usually grows not like a wildfire, but like ripples in a pond—one here, and one more, and then one more.

That’s what I wanted to help you see by having the gospel story acted out this morning. When the story begins, Jesus has no followers, not one. John directs a couple of his disciples to Jesus, they ask him, “Where are you staying?”, and he says, “Come and see.” So now he’s got two followers, and one of them, Andrew, goes and tells his brother, Simon, about Jesus, and so now there are three followers. The next day Jesus invites Philip, saying, “Follow me.” So that makes four followers, and Philip goes and finds his buddy Nathaniel, and tells him about Jesus. Nathaniel isn’t so sure; he says, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” And Philip says, “Why don’t you come and see.” And now there are five of them with Jesus.

Now that may not seem like a lot. Heck, at that point the whole Jesus movement would have fit in the back of my van. But it went from zero to five in just two days. That’s almost as many new members as our church received all last year. And how did it happen? Through a series of simple invitations. Jesus invited two who were already interested in him through John, Andrew brought his brother, Jesus invited Philip, and Philip brought a friend. No one coerced or pressured anyone. All they said was, “Come and see. Why don’t you come and see?”

The moral of the story, I believe, when it comes to inviting people to Christ and his church, is this: it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Do you suppose that Andrew, who brought his brother to Jesus, knew everything there was to know about Jesus? Well, how could he—they’d only spent a few hours together. Do you suppose that Philip made sure he’d memorized the Apostles’ Creed and his church’s vision statement before he asked Nathaniel to come with him? Well, he does mention the scriptures when he talks to Nathaniel, but his real invitation is pretty simple, almost naïve: Come and see.

Now I’m not trying to promote an ignorant faith. I wish everybody came to Sunday school and Bible Study. But there is no set amount that you have to know about the faith in order to be qualified to share it. Ignorance is no excuse. In fact, like Andrew and Philip, sometimes the newest, possibly least knowledgeable, believers are the most eager to share—because they are most aware of what they’ve gained—not information about the Bible, but a relationship with Jesus Christ. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know—Jesus. You’ll know him in a different way from me; I’ll know him in a different way from somebody else. But the point is that you do know Jesus—as the one who hears your prayers, or the one who gave his life to forgive your sins, or the one who is always present, or as the Prince of Peace. All you have to say is, “What a difference he makes in my life.” “What do you mean?” “Come and see.” The Jesus group did not grow because Andrew and Philip were experts, but because they were willing to issue the invitation, “Come and see.”

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know: there’s another way that’s true. Some people think that church growth is about a plan or strategy—that you need to read a book or go to a seminar. Well, there’s nothing wrong with some of those things. We’ll probably do some of them this year. But Andrew and Philip had never been to a church growth seminar and they never developed a ministry plan. It wasn’t what they knew, it was who they knew: in Andrew’s case, his brother, and in Philip’s case, a friend. Everybody knows people—brothers, sisters, parents, children, cousins. Sometimes we forget the most obvious people—family. Everybody knows people—your lunch bunch at work, the old group from high school, the folks at the exercise club or that you volunteer with. Friends, in other words. You’re not telling them they should believe or that there’s something the matter with them. You’re just saying, “Come and see.” Everybody knows people—the folks across the alley, families your kids go to school with, the hairdresser, the waitress. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Oh, and of course, the willingness to say to them, “Come and see.”

Here’s something I’ve shared with you before, but because it’s important, it bears repeating. Some researchers contacted people all across the country who had recently joined a congregation, and asked them, “Why did you first visit that church?” Well, a few people said they’d seen a sign or ad for the church. A few more said that it was close to their home or on their way to work. But 86% of them said they’d first visited that church because someone they knew had invited them to come. 86%! Look around you this morning and you will see those 86%. Some of you may be sitting with someone you invited. Many of you remember clearly who it was who first invited you to come. There is something about a personal invitation that no publicity, no program, no letter from the pastor can every match. And that invitation can be as brief as three words: Come and see.

Becky Paavola is here because when she first moved here from Alaska, Diane Kaiser invited her to come and see. Nancy Harris is here because when she moved back to Columbus, no one from her old church thought to ask her to come back, but Natalie Snarr invited her to come and see. Just before Christmas half a Boy Scout troop was here for a youth overnight, because the Dodd family encouraged them to come and see. Jeff Kidwell made business cards for our church to give to anyone who might be interested, and I have seen him use them. (There’s some on the table by the little kitchen, by the way.) And several years ago I noticed that a lot of our new members at Maynard had a previous relationship with Doug and Bryan. I wondered why that was. Recently I found out. I was at their house for a party, and happened to overhear part of a conversation Bryan was having with someone I’d never met before. She was asking him what it’s like to direct a choir. He invited her to sing in it. She said she wasn’t sure she was cut out for church. And he said, “Well, why don’t you come and see?” Now she hasn’t, not so far. But others have. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Oh, and of course, the willingness to say to them, “Come and see.”

I want to tell you two stories in conclusion. A United Methodist pastor in North Carolina says, “I was leaving the church one evening as the AA meeting was breaking up. I noticed a man leaning over the hood of a rusty Ford and introduced myself as the pastor. He sighed and told me how long he had intended to ‘get back to church.’ I invited him to worship, and he launched into the story of his life, a familiar string of regrets and loss and addiction. We shared a prayer and said, ‘Good night.’ As I was walking to my car, he called after me, “Did you mean what you said?” ‘About what?’ I asked. ‘Did you mean that I could come to this church?’ Driving home it occurred to me that his story has been his way of explaining why he couldn’t take me up on my offer. He felt he wasn’t ‘clean enough’ to be included in our congregation.

I never saw him again. I wish my response to his question had been more direct. I wish I had simply repeated the words of Christ. I wish I had said, ‘Come and see.’

When I was in seminary there was a special program one year devoted to “Preaching and the Arts.” We were all amazed when it was announced that the main speaker would be Mr. Robert Shaw—then director of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, a world renowned conductor, one of the most famous people alive in the musical arts. When it came time for Mr. Shaw to be introduced, our professor took the podium and said, “You may be wondering how I got Robert Shaw to come here today.” Well, I was wondering. He went on, “You may want to know the secret of how I got him to come.” Yes, yes, I thought, I want to know the secret. “Well, here how I did it.” And he paused. “Here’s the secret.” And he paused again. Tell us, tell us, I thought to myself. “Here it is,” he said again, “I invited him.”

Well, this is the Year of Invitation at Maynard Avenue Church. And by the end of the year this sanctuary will have new people all over the place. And some people will wonder, “Gosh, I wonder how they to him to come? I wonder what they did to get those people here?” And do you know what the answer will be? The answer will be: someone invited them.

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Oh yeah, and the willingness to say to them, “Come and see.”