Believe and see

Believe and See

John 4:43–54

Augustine once wrote, “Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.” That sentence captures the tension most of us live in every day. We say we believe, but we often want to see first. We want evidence before obedience. And when life presses in, when fear rises, when outcomes feel uncertain, our hearts quietly reverse Augustine’s order. We tell ourselves we will trust God only once we see.

That instinct runs deep in us. It shows up in our prayers, our worries, and our waiting. We trust God in theory, but in practice we often ask Him to prove Himself again. We want clarity before commitment and certainty before surrender. And yet Scripture consistently tells us that faith does not grow by sight, but by hearing and trusting the word of God.

John 4:43–54 is a passage written to confront that instinct. Jesus returns to Cana, the place where He performed His first sign by turning water into wine. That miracle revealed His glory quietly, without spectacle, and those who saw it believed. It was a sign that pointed beyond itself to who Jesus is. Now Jesus comes back to Cana, but He is no longer unknown. Word has spread. Expectations have grown. Crowds are watching. And John wants us to see that not all belief in Jesus is the same. How do you know if you have real faith?

At the center of this passage is a desperate father and a dying son. The man believes enough to come to Jesus, enough to ask for help, enough to hope. But will he trust Jesus at His word?. He wants Jesus to come. He wants Jesus to act in a way he can see. And Jesus, in mercy, refuses to meet him on those terms. Instead, Jesus offers him no sign to watch, no journey to follow, and no visible proof to cling to. He offers him only a sentence: “Your son will live.” Everything in this story turns on whether that word is enough. Is his Word enough to obey? Enough to wait? Enough to trust?

So as we walk through this text together, John presses Augustine’s question into our lives. Will we believe only after we see, or will we trust the word of Jesus and discover, in time, that what he speaks is always true? If not all belief is the same, then we need to examine our own hearts. As this story unfolds, we are going to ask four questions that help us discern whether our faith rests on sight or on the word of Jesus.

How do you welcome Jesus? (John 4:43-45)

Not every welcome is the same. John shows us that it is possible to receive Jesus warmly while still missing Him entirely. John 4:43-45,

After the two days he departed for Galilee. (For Jesus himself had testified that a prophet has no honor in his hometown.) So when he came to Galilee, the Galileans welcomed him, having seen all that he had done in Jerusalem at the feast, for they too had gone to the feast.

Jesus returns to Galilee and the people welcome Him. They receive Him gladly. They are interested. They are attentive. And yet John immediately reminds us of Jesus’ own testimony: “a prophet has no honor in his hometown.” At first glance, those two realities seem to contradict each other. How can Jesus say He receives no honor if He is being welcomed?

The key is that John is not talking about whether Jesus is noticed. He is talking about whether Jesus is honored. Even though our English translations may not draw attention to it, John tightly connects Jesus’ proverb in verse 44 with the welcome described in verse 45. In other words, the reception Jesus receives in Galilee is not a contradiction of His statement that a prophet has no honor in his hometown. It is an illustration of it. The Galileans welcome Jesus, but not with the kind of honor that submits to His authority. Their welcome is genuine, but it is shallow. It is interest without reverence, attraction without surrender, a response shaped by signs rather than obedience to His word.

That fits the pattern John has been tracing from the beginning: “He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” (John 1:11) They may open the door, but they do not bow the knee. They do not deny that Jesus can do extraordinary things, but did not submit to him as Messiah. For John tells us plainly why they welcome Him. They have seen what He did in Jerusalem at the feast. Their interest is rooted in what Jesus has done, not in who Jesus is. They are drawn to His works, not surrendered to His words. They have a conditional faith.

John has already prepared us for this earlier in the Gospel. In John 2, many “believed in his name” when they saw the signs He was doing, but Jesus did not entrust Himself to them because He knew what was in man. In other words, there is a kind of belief that can be impressed by Jesus and still remain unchanged by Jesus. There is a way to welcome Him that stops short of honoring Him as Lord.

John is showing us that proximity to Jesus is not the same as submission to Jesus. The Galileans are not hostile to Him. They are not rejecting Him outright. In fact, they are welcoming Him. But their familiarity with Him has shaped their response in a dangerous way. Because they know where He grew up, who His family is, and what His life has looked like, they assume they understand Him.  Instead of approaching Jesus as one who speaks with divine authority, they approach Him as someone they feel they have a claim on. Familiarity gives them confidence, but not humility. It makes them comfortable, not repentant.

This is why familiarity can actually harden the heart. When Jesus becomes predictable, we stop listening. When He feels safe, we stop submitting. When we assume we know what He will say and how He will act, His word no longer confronts us. What should have led to deeper faith instead produces entitlement. The Galileans do not reject Jesus because He is unfamiliar. They fail to honor Him because He is too familiar. John is warning us that long exposure to Jesus can either deepen worship or dull it, depending on whether familiarity leads us to humility or to presumption.

John intentionally places this response beside the faith of the Samaritans to clarify the difference between true belief and deficient belief. The Samaritans believed because of Jesus’ word. They heard Him speak and entrusted themselves to what He said. The Galileans also believe, but their belief is anchored in what they have seen Him do. Their faith begins with signs and remains dependent on them. The issue is not that signs are meaningless. In John’s Gospel, signs are meant to lead to faith. The problem arises when faith never moves beyond them.

John wants us to sense this tension before the miracle ever occurs because it explains everything that follows. One kind of faith receives Jesus as trustworthy before proof is in hand. The other evaluates Him, welcomes Him, and remains interested so long as He continues to perform. One faith rests in His word. The other waits to see if He will meet its expectations. John is pressing us to ask whether our faith is being led by what Jesus has said or limited by what we demand Him to show.

And it presses an uncomfortable question into our lives. How do we welcome Jesus? Many of us are deeply familiar with Him. We know the stories. We know the language. We know the rhythms of church life. We know when to stand, when to sing, when to listen. We may welcome Jesus as long as He meets our expectations, helps our situation, or confirms what we already want to believe. But welcoming Jesus for what He does is not the same as honoring Him for who He is.

Familiarity can quietly replace faith. Over time, Jesus can become predictable, manageable, and safe. We can sing true things about Him while resisting the true things He says to us. We can listen to His word without letting it confront our sin, reorder our priorities, or our obedience. And because everything feels familiar, we may not even realize how little trust is actually required of us.

John is preparing us to see that real faith does not begin with amazement, excitement, or religious enthusiasm. It begins with trust. It begins with hearing the word of Jesus and receiving it as true, even when it challenges us or unsettles us. So before we ask what Jesus will do next, let me ask you: are you welcoming Jesus on His terms or on your own?

II. How Do We Come to Jesus?

Need has a way of driving us to Jesus. But John shows us that desperation alone does not define the nature of our faith. John 4:46-49,

So he came again to Cana in Galilee, where he had made the water wine. And at Capernaum there was an official whose son was ill. When this man heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went to him and asked him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. So Jesus said to him, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.” The official said to him, “Sir, come down before my child dies.”

John deliberately brings us back to Cana. The location matters. This is the place where Jesus first revealed His glory by turning water into wine. Cana is associated with joy, abundance, and celebration. But now the scene could not be more different. Instead of a wedding feast, we meet a dying child. Instead of joy, there is desperation.

Into that setting comes a royal official. John’s term points to someone connected to Herod Antipas’ administration. Antipas was not a king in the strict sense, but he was treated like one. This man has proximity to political power, status, and influence. Yet none of it can stop death from knocking at his door. When his son is dying, his title means nothing. 

Notice how the man comes to Jesus. He comes urgently. He comes emotionally. His request is clear and direct. He asks Jesus to come down to Capernaum and heal his son. His faith is real, but it is narrow. He believes Jesus can heal, but only if Jesus is physically present and if He acts quickly. 

Capernaum sits far below Cana, near the Sea of Galilee. John repeats the phrase “come down,” for the man is pleading for a literal descent, a bedside miracle, a visible intervention. He believes Jesus can help, but assumes he has to be physically present to heal his son. The official is still learning who Jesus truly is. He is coming to Jesus in desperation, but without a settled confidence in the power and the sufficiency of Christ’s word.

Jesus’ response in verse 48 sounds sharp but he is not merely speaking to the official. “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.”  Jesus uses “you” in the plural as He is exposing a broader Galilean posture toward Him. Their faith depends on visible proof. He is confronting their shallow faith. 

John also pairs “signs” with “wonders,” a combination that is rare in this Gospel. The issue is not that miracles are meaningless. John has already shown us that signs serve a purpose. The issue is what happens when people want the miracle more than they want the Messiah. Miracle-driven belief can look like faith and still remain unchanged by Christ. Jesus is pressing them toward something stronger than fascination. He wants them to trust in His word. The official responds by repeating his request. He does not argue theology. He reveals his heart. “Sir, come down before my child dies.” He is afraid. He is desperate. Time is running out.

And this is where the passage begins to mirror us. Many of us come to Jesus the same way. We come when pressure is high and options are few. We pray urgently. We ask specifically. And often, like this official, we come with unspoken assumptions about how Jesus must work. We may believe Jesus can help, but expect him to act in a certain way, on a certain timeline, and within the boundaries we imagine. Our prayers can be sincere and still reveal a faith that is learning to trust.

This passage reminds us that Jesus welcomes desperate people, but He does not leave their faith untouched. He gently exposes where our trust is thin so that He might deepen it. The question is not whether we come to Jesus. Picture a firefighter standing outside a smoke-filled building, calling to someone trapped inside, “Follow my voice. The exit is clear.” The person inside has a choice. They can trust the voice and move toward safety, or they can refuse to move until they see the firefighter face to face. Fear is real either way, but rescue depends on trusting the voice before seeing the rescuer. 

This official is standing in that moment. He believes Jesus can save his son, but he wants Jesus to come down to him on his terms. Jesus will teach him that rescue does not depend on sight, but on trusting the word that calls him to move before anything changes. So here is the question for us: when fear presses in and the outcome is still hidden, are we willing to follow the voice of Jesus, or do we refuse to move until He comes to us on our terms?

How Do We Obey Jesus?

Faith is often most clearly revealed not in what we ask but in what we do next. John now brings us to the turning point of the story. John 4:50,

Jesus said to him, “Go; your son will live.” The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and went on his way.

Everything changes in this single verse. Up to this point, the official has been urging Jesus to come with him. He wants his presence with his son and he  wants something he can see. But Jesus does not go with the man. He does not ask more questions. He does not offer a partial sign or a visible guarantee. He simply speaks a sentence and sends him away.“Go; your son will live.” That is all the man is given.

This moment reveals something essential about the nature of faith. Jesus does not always strengthen faith by giving us more information. Often, He strengthens faith by calling us to trust what He has already said. Nothing visible changes. The son is still miles away. The illness is still real. The danger has not visibly passed. The only difference is that Jesus has spoken. John is careful with his language, hear it again, “The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and went on his way.” Faith here is not mere emotional relief, nor is it intellectual agreement with a claim. It is trust that expresses itself through obedience. The man believes Jesus, and therefore he leaves. He obeys the Word by trusting in his Word.

That pattern runs throughout John’s Gospel. Belief is never merely internal and abstract. True belief always moves outward into action. To believe the word of Jesus is to live as if that word is true, even when nothing around us seems to confirm it. The man turns away from Jesus and begins the long walk home carrying nothing but a promise.

John emphasizes that he believed the word Jesus spoke, and that response is instructive to us. In this Gospel, Jesus does not merely speak information. He speaks life. Later Jesus will say that His words are spirit and life. That truth is already being previewed here. The man’s obedience is a confession that Christ’s word carries authority. In a Gospel that opens with God creating by speech, this moment carries deep theological weight. John begins his Gospel by taking us back to Genesis itself: “In the beginning was the Word… All things were created through him, and apart from him not one thing was created that has been created. In him was life” (John 1:1, 3–4). From the very first lines, John teaches us that God’s word is not merely informative. It is creative. When God speaks, life comes into being. The world exists because God said so.

That is the backdrop for this moment in John 4. The same Word through whom all things were made has now taken on flesh and is standing in Cana. And just as God spoke light into darkness in the beginning, Jesus now speaks life into a dying situation. He does not need to travel, touch, or perform a visible act. He simply speaks, and what He says becomes reality. The Word made flesh still rules by His word, and when He speaks, His word creates life just as surely as it did in the beginning.

Think about this man’s journey home. The road from Cana to Capernaum would have been long and quiet. Every step would have given the man time to second-guess his decision. What if I misunderstood Him? What if He meant something else? What if I arrive too late? Obedience often exposes us to these doubts because obedience requires us to move forward without controlling or knowing the outcome.

That is why John wants us to see obedience as the visible expression of faith. Belief in Jesus’ word moves the man forward before he sees any evidence that the word is true. Faith acts first and sees later. Obedience becomes the pathway through which trust deepens. And this kind of obedience meets us at different places in life.

For parents, especially those carrying concern for their children, this passage speaks with particular tenderness. Like this father, you may feel the weight of responsibility and the pain of helplessness. You cannot control outcomes. You cannot shield your children from every danger. You cannot guarantee faith. Obedience in this season may look like entrusting your children to Christ’s care again and again, continuing to pray when fear presses in, and walking faithfully even when you cannot see how God is working.

For seniors, your obedience may look like trusting in the unanswered prayers you have prayed for decades, the unfulfilled hopes you have carried quietly, orpromises you have clung to through long seasons. Obedience at this stage may mean continuing to trust Christ’s word when your strength fades and circumstances remain unresolved. Faith here often looks like steady trust, day after day, without visible resolution.

For younger believers, obedience often feels risky and costly. Following Jesus may mean choosing faithfulness over acceptance, obedience over clarity, or patience over immediacy. This passage reminds you that obedience does not wait for full understanding. It begins with trusting that Jesus’ word is enough to take the next step, even when others do not understand why you are walking that path.

You might be listening to this and realizing that you have admired Jesus, respected His teaching, or even hoped He could help, but you have never actually trusted Him enough to obey Him. This moment confronts you gently but honestly, because Jesus is not asking for curiosity, approval, or distant admiration. He is asking whether you will take Him at His word, even when you cannot yet see how it will turn out.

In every case, obedience is not a leap into the dark. It is a step taken in response to a trustworthy word. The man does not obey because he feels confident. He obeys because Jesus has spoken. And the question John presses into our lives is not whether we will obey perfectly, but whether we will take Jesus at His word and go where He sends us, trusting that His word is enough even when sight is withheld.

Why Do We Obey Jesus?

Obedience is never the end of the story. John now shows us what obedience produces and, more importantly, who it reveals Jesus to be. John 4:51–54,

As he was going down, his servants met him and told him that his son was recovering. So he asked them the hour when he began to get better, and they said to him, “Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him.” The father knew that was the hour when Jesus had said to him, “Your son will live.” And he himself believed, and all his household. This was now the second sign that Jesus did when he had come from Judea to Galilee.

John deliberately slows the pace of the narrative here, drawing our attention to the details.

The man is still on the road, still walking home in obedience, when his servants meet him with good news. His son is alive. The crisis has passed. But notice what the man wants to know when the healing occurred. John gives us a timestamp, “the seventh hour.” It likely points to early afternoon. The father is met by servants the next day, which fits the normal realities of travel. The distance between Cana and Capernaum was significant enough that most would not complete the journey after an afternoon conversation, especially as dusk approached. That detail quietly reinforces the theme of the passage. The man does not return home frantic and sleepless, as if everything depends on his speed. He walks home resting on thatt sentence, “Go; your son will live.” The next day he discovers that Christ’s word had already done its work.

Faith is now looking backward. The man connects Jesus’ word with real time and real history. When the servants tell him the exact hour the fever left, the connection becomes unmistakable. The word Jesus spoke was not symbolic or hopeful exaggeration. It was effective. It accomplished precisely what Jesus said it would accomplish. God’s word is always effecitive.

John then draws our attention to a subtle but theologically rich shift in language. At first, this character is described as a royal official. That title emphasizes his position, authority, and proximity to earthly power. In verse 50, John simply refers to him as the man. Now, in verse 53, he is called the father. I believe John is revealing something to us. 

This man is no longer defined by status or title. He is no longer introduced by his connection to a lesser king. He is defined by relationship and faith. The true royal figure in the story is not Herod, and it is not Herod’s official. The true King is Jesus. Jesus never travels to Capernaum. He never enters a palace. He never asserts political authority. And yet, with a word, He gives life. John wants us to see that the kingdom of God does not advance through displays of political power but through the life-giving authority of God’s Word.

John then adds a final and crucial detail. He tells us that the man believed, even though he already believed earlier in the story. This is not a contradiction. It is development. Earlier, the man believed that Jesus could heal. Now, he believes in who Jesus is. His faith has deepened. It has moved from trust in Jesus’ ability to trust in Jesus’ identity. And that faith does not remain private. His whole household believes. We see this repeated pattern in Acts, where the gospel reaches homes through the faith of a household leader, then spreads through the relationships under that roof. In the ancient world, households often followed the head of the household in matters of religion and allegiance. John is showing how the testimony of one changed life can become the doorway for many. The sign not only saves a son from death, it opens a home to the living Christ.

This is the purpose of signs in John’s Gospel. Signs are never meant to terminate on themselves. They are meant to point beyond themselves to Christ. When a sign produces faith in Jesus rather than fascination with the miracle, it has done its work. The healing of the child matters deeply, but it is not the final goal. The revelation of the Messiah is the goal of the signs.

This is where the passage opens fully into the heart of the gospel. Jesus does not merely restore physical life. He reveals Himself as the One who gives eternal life by His word. In John’s Gospel, life is never just biological. It is spiritual, saving life that flows from knowing the Son of God. This sign in Cana quietly points us forward. The same Jesus who speaks life into a dying child will one day speak again, not to prevent suffering, but to embrace it. His word will lead Him from Cana to Calvary. He will submit Himself to condemnation, be crucified, and laid in a tomb. For a moment, it will seem as though death has the final word. But on the third day, Jesus will rise. And His resurrection will declare once and for all that the One who spoke life in Cana has authority not only over sickness, but over sin, judgment, and death itself.

John tells us later why he recorded these signs: that we might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing we may have life in His name. This passage invites us to that same faith. Not a faith that waits for everything to make sense, but a faith that rests in the finished work of a living King.

Why do we obey Jesus? Because His word gives life, and His word carries the authority of the Messiah. He did not need to go down to Capernaum. He did not need to touch the child or stand at the bedside. His word was enough to bring life from a distance. Obedience is not how we earn God’s favor. It is how faith expresses itself when we believe that Jesus truly reigns as God’s anointed King. To trust His word is to acknowledge His rightful authority over our lives.

We obey not to secure His love, but because we believe He has already secured our salvation. The One who can speak life without moving a step, who bears our sin, the one risen from the grave, and is reigning at the Father’s right hand is worthy of our trust. Obedience, then, is not fearful submission but glad allegiance. It is the response of hearts that confess Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and therefore the One whose word is always good, always true, and always life-giving.

For those who feel overlooked or powerless, this passage reminds us that Jesus does not need earthly status to accomplish eternal purposes. For those weighed down by fear, grief, or long seasons of waiting, it assures us that Christ’s word is never wasted and never late. And for all of us, it confronts the question John has been pressing from the beginning. Will we believe in signs, or will we believe in the Savior?

After His resurrection, Jesus will say to His disciples, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” Those who believe in the risen King are sent people. Faith that trusts the word does not remain silent. It bears witness. It obeys. It follows.

John ends the chapter by pointing out this is the second sign. Remember the  miracles matter, but they are  never the ultimate point. Their point was Jesus. The true King has spoken. The question now is whether we will believe Him and follow where He sends us.

This story ends without spectacle. There is no crowd gathered around a healed child. There is no dramatic public moment of recognition. There is no visible proof at the feet of Jesus. What remains is a man who believed a word, walked home in obedience, and discovered that Christ was faithful long before he could see it.

That is the kind of faith John has been pressing us toward all along. Not faith that demands constant reassurance. Not faith that waits for visible signs. But faith that rests in who Jesus is and what He has said. The man obeyed before he knew the outcome. He trusted before he saw the evidence. And in doing so, he learned that the word of Jesus is never empty.

Most of us live in the space between promise and fulfillment. We pray. We wait. We walk forward with unanswered questions. This passage reminds us that faith is not blindness. It is confidence in a trustworthy King. Jesus does not ask us to believe without reason. He asks us to believe without sight. And John is doing the same thing for us. We were not on the road from Cana. We did not hear the servants’ report with our own ears. But John recorded this sign so that we would believe without standing in the room. These signs are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. The question is not whether you can see enough. The question is whether you will trust the Word who speaks life.

Later in this Gospel, Jesus will say to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” That blessing is not reserved for the disciples alone. It is for everyone who entrusts themselves to Christ’s word today.

So we welcome Him not only for what He can give, but for who He is: Messiah and Savior. We come to Him not with demands, but with trust. We obey Him not because we see the end of the road, but because we know the One who walks with us. And we believe, even when we cannot yet see, because the King who speaks life has already proven Himself faithful. You can take him at his word. It is enough.