TEN YEARS GONE: Can't Stay Away (Revised)

Sirs, We Would See Jesus

First Published Tuesday, March 22, 2016 - Revised Saturday, August 8, 2026

Sirs, we would see Jesus.

 - John 12

Near the end of Jesus' ministry, some Greeks who had come to Jerusalem for the festival approached Philip with a simple request.

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

We aren't told very much about these people. We don't know what they had heard, how far they had traveled, or exactly what they expected to find. Perhaps that is part of what makes the moment so powerful. Somehow word about this remarkable man had traveled far enough beyond His own people that strangers came looking for Him.

And what they wanted was not an explanation.

They wanted to see Him.

There is something in those few words that has always moved me. They express the longing of seekers across the centuries who have read the stories, heard the sermons, studied the theology, prayed the prayers, and eventually found themselves wanting something more.

I want to see Him.

Not merely learn more about Him. Not simply become more certain about a doctrine. I want to know what it would be like to stand there and see His face. To hear His voice without two thousand years between us. To watch Him greet someone nobody else wanted. To see how He looked at the sick, the frightened, the ashamed, the arrogant, the children, His friends.

What was it like simply to be around Jesus?

Christians sometimes say that when people encounter the Church, they should encounter the Body of Christ. There is truth in that, and it places an enormous responsibility upon us. If we bear His name, people ought to encounter something of His mercy, courage, holiness, compassion, and peace when they encounter us.

But I'll confess that the metaphor has never completely satisfied me.

I want to see HIM.

George Harrison put that longing into words I have carried for years: “I really want to see you, Lord, but it takes so long.”

Indeed it does.

John begins his Gospel with another extraordinary image. The Word was with God—or, in language I have always found especially beautiful, the Word was toward God. There is movement in that image. Creation itself seems to be leaning homeward, longing to be restored to its Creator.

And at the center of that movement stands the Son of God.

Jesus shows us what a human life looks like when it is turned completely toward God. The spotless Son lives among ordinary people, touches the untouchable, forgives sinners, confronts hypocrisy, welcomes outsiders, and remains faithful even when faithfulness leads Him toward suffering.

Perhaps that is why people couldn't stay away.

Some came hoping for healing. Some came with questions. Some came to challenge Him. Some climbed trees. Some pushed through crowds. Some tore open a roof. And on this particular day, some Greeks simply walked up to Philip and asked.

Two thousand years later, I understand them.

I've studied Him. I've preached about Him. I've sung about Him. I've prayed in His name and tried, sometimes successfully and sometimes very imperfectly, to follow Him.

But underneath all of that remains the simplest longing of all.

Sir, we wish to see Jesus.