Jesus' Enduring Questions

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In the garden, when Adam was hiding in shame, God did not thunder condemnation from a distance. God moved toward him and asked a question: "Where are you?" Not because God lacked information—but because Adam lacked honesty. The question was an invitation. An invitation to come out of hiding. To tell the truth. To return.

Today we are launching our Lenten sermon series, and throughout this season, we plan to sit with the questions of Jesus. Not to extract answers. Not to perform spiritually. But to let Jesus ask us what he asks—because Jesus does not question in order to trap us. He questions in order to restore us.

We're about ten days into Lent now. Maybe you've already broken your Lent promise. Maybe you never made one to begin with. Maybe you're wondering if this whole thing is just spiritual gymnastics that doesn't really change anything.

But what if Lent isn't about subtraction—it's about exposure? What if it's about letting Jesus ask us the question that cuts through our performances and gets to the heart of what we actually want?

In John chapter one, two disciples begin trailing behind Jesus. They are curious. Hungry. Searching. And Jesus turns, sees them following him, and asks a question that is both simple and disarming: "What do you want?" That is the first recorded question Jesus asks in John's Gospel. Not "What do you believe?" Not "Are you morally qualified?" Not "Do you understand the Trinity?" He asks, "What do you want?" Discipleship begins in desire.

Many of us were taught to distrust our desires. We were warned that desire is dangerous, that holiness means suppressing what we want. But Jesus does not shame their desire; he surfaces it. Desire is not the enemy of the spiritual life. Disordered desire is. Beneath our surface wants—success, comfort, security, influence—there is a deeper ache: to be seen, to be known, to belong, to matter, to be loved. The question is not whether you desire. The question is what you believe will satisfy you.

If Jesus stood in front of you this morning and asked, "What do you want?" how would you answer? Would you give the church answer? "I want to grow." "I want to be closer to God." But if we're honest, sometimes what we want is control. Sometimes we want to win. Sometimes we want to preserve our way of life. Sometimes we want safety more than we want surrender. Sometimes we want to be right more than we want to be loving. Lent is the courage to let that surface without pretending.

The disciples' response is interesting. They don't articulate their desire directly. They say, "Rabbi, where are you staying?" It's almost indirect, almost shy. And Jesus responds, "Come and see." He does not give them a lecture. He offers proximity. "Come and see." And John tells us they went and stayed with him that day. The beginning of transformation is not information; it is staying. Lent is an invitation to stay. To slow down long enough to notice what actually drives us. To resist numbing ourselves. To pay attention.

Here's the thing about Jesus's question: it's not meant to be answered immediately. It's meant to work on us, to follow us home, to sit with us in the quiet moments, to surface in our prayers and our conversations with friends. "What do you want?" is not a question you answer once and move on. It reshapes as you grow, deepens as you mature, reveals new layers as God strips away old ones. This is why Lent is forty days, not four. The questions that matter can't be rushed.

After Andrew spends the day with Jesus, the first thing he does is go find his brother Simon and say, "We have found the Messiah." When you encounter something real, you share it. Not out of obligation, but out of overflow. Desire clarified becomes witness. If we allow Jesus to reorder our desires this Lent, it will shape how we show up in our homes, in our relationships, in our neighborhoods, in this city. We will not show up driven by fear or scarcity. We will show up as people who have found something better. And people who have found something better are not defensive; they are generous.

And then something remarkable happens. When Andrew brings Simon to Jesus, Jesus immediately speaks identity over him: "You are to be called Cephas"—Peter, the rock. Jesus sees who Simon will become before Simon even knows who he is right now. He calls him by a name he hasn't earned, toward a future he can't imagine. The name is a promise, not an instant transformation. It will take years of walking with Jesus—years of failure and forgiveness—before Simon grows into the name Peter.

But this begins with honesty. Some of us have followed Jesus for years without ever answering this question truthfully. We followed for belonging. We followed because it was expected. We followed because it was culturally stable. We followed because we were afraid not to. Lent is not about shame; it is about courage. The courage to say, "Jesus, I want you—but I also want comfort." "I want your kingdom—but I also want control." "I want love—but I also want to win." And the good news is this: when you tell the truth, Jesus does not recoil. He says, "Come and see.”

In a few minutes, we're going to come to the communion table. And I want you to hear Jesus asking his question here too: "What do you want?" God is a God of the Real, not the Ideal. Don't come to this table with spiritual performance. Come with your actual hunger, your real questions, your half-understood desires.

As we begin this series, we will sit with Jesus's enduring questions. Why are you so afraid? How many loaves do you have? Who do you say I am? Why do you call me Lord and not do what I say? Do you love me? These are not abstract theological puzzles. They are diagnostic questions. They expose fear, scarcity, loyalty, hypocrisy, love. And if we let them—if we allow Jesus to ask us these questions in their context and answer them honestly—they will shape how we show up in our daily lives and neighborhoods. They will make us a transformed people.

So today, we begin here. Jesus turns toward you. He sees you. And he asks, "What do you want?" Not what should you want. Not what do you think I want you to say. What do you want? Let that question linger this week. Pay attention to when you feel most alive and when you feel life draining out of you. That will reveal something about your desires. And then bring it into the light. Because the same God who moved toward Adam in the garden is moving toward you now—not to condemn, but to restore. Not to shame, but to invite. And the invitation is simple: come and see.

Amen.

Before Genesis 3– God is creating, naming and blessing. There is abundance and enough.

Genesis 3:1-13

Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’” “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” And he said, “Who told you that you were naked?Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?” The man said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.” Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

This snake is “arun”.Modern English translations translate that Hebrew word as crafty, which for many has a negative connotation. Many biblical scholars would argue that a better translation of this into contemporary language would be something closer to “wise, smart or skilled”.

Did God really say… wonders the snake. His first words put God’s words on trial. If he was really interested in getting clear about what God said, why didn’t the snake just go talk with God himself? No, no. There is something more than information that the snake is after.

Then the deception continues. The snake says, “You’re not going to die. God’s telling you a lie. God knows that when you eat this fruit, your eyes will be opened and you’ll become like God.”

The accusation is so thick here: God is holding out on you, God is keeping something good from you, God cannot be trusted…

But friends, here’s the tragic, ironic reality:

• The snake said that eating this fruit would make them like God. Wait a second, whose image are they made in?
• Eve and Adam are already like God– they are made in God’s own image! The snake tricks them into trying to take for themselves something they already possess.

Then their eyes are opened. Instead of being naked and unashamed like they were in chapter 2, their nakedness now fills them with shame. They take leaves, perhaps from the very tree they just ate from, and they make clothes for themselves.

God shows up for an afternoon stroll. How does God show up?

• God comes with three questions– Where are you? Who told you? What is this you have done?
• God’s questions are about: Absence, Authority, and Agency
• God comes with questions that expose reality and offer a pathway for restoration. Each question is an opportunity for the humans to practice the honesty that leads to repentance and intimacy with their Creator.

Adam and Eve are stuck in their shame: they hide and they blame

As we move into Lent this year, a season for repentance, for some of us, the questions God asked Adam and Eve would be a beautiful starting point for considering how we might practice repentance and create room to be with God on purpose this Lent, for the first time or the 40th time. Where are you? Who told you? What is this you’ve done?

I want to call us to be radically honest with God about what’s not working in our lives, where we are addicted, disengaged, bitter, hoarding, controlling, and taking, so that we can practice genuine repentance that leads to restored intimacy with God. The God who comes looking for us, every day, wondering if we might like to take a walk together.