I truly appreciate a thoughtful, caring question. My friend Kris embodies this beautifully; she has a talent for asking meaningful and introspective questions that allow me to delve deeper into my feelings and thoughts. For instance, when I return from a trip, she doesn’t just ask about my travels in passing. Instead, she genuinely inquires, “What was your favorite place or activity?” This question invites me to relive my experiences and share the moments that truly resonated with me.

I thought of her as I started my new Bible study, Discovering Jesus, written by my niece, Chrissy Fukushima. God’s timing is always perfect. I just got started on chapter 1 of John. The study is an expository through the Gospel of John.

Jesus, leaders, community members, and Chrissy posed questions that still ring true today.

Who is John the Baptist? As he fulfilled his calling of preparing the way for Jesus, people were confused and curious: “Then who are you?” and “What do you have to say about yourself?”

I can remember all the church storybooks about John, Jesus’s cousin, who was a wild, adventurous man. As a child, I could not imagine eating locust and honey in the wilderness and baptizing people in the name of the One who is to come. Yet, the spirit of the message, the passion, and the focus were something I could imagine. How would I answer the question, “What do you have to say about yourself?”

In chapter 1, Jesus begins to call His disciples, and one by one, they leave their homes, professions, and communities to follow this Rabbi or teacher, Jesus. Philip told Nathanael, “We have found the very person Moses and the prophets wrote about!” I love Nathanael’s response, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” My notes to the side beg the question, “Have you ever been here?” I thought of spaces we’ve been called to live in or maybe even settled in because of situations out of our control, like losses, decisions, policies, shifts in culture, and we get in that space of “Can anything good come out of this?” Every generation believes its time is the most challenging or complicated, but as we look at history, we know this is untrue. Those before us have also begged, “Can anything good come out of this?” Nathanael pushed back with Jesus and asked, “How do you know about me?” There is that question again of “explain yourself.” Jesus responded with a statement recognizing exactly where he was under a fig tree before they met. That alone made Nathanael exclaim, “You are the Son of God!”

My notes off to the side, “God sees us.” Where are you as you read this? Are you wondering about the good in something, or are you transitioning or experiencing a different path? God sees you. You can claim God’s sovereignty and exclaim His love for you. He sees you under the fig tree. The author, Chrissy, shares thoughts and a question for us.

“He wants to see us willingly step out, figuratively, but sometimes literally, of what we know to be true and go to Him and follow His ways.” (p. 12)

“What would your response be if He approached you…?” (p. 14)

I like the words “go to Him.” He is always with us, in us, working His love and understanding out in our journey; however, do I intentionally go to Him? Do I sit long enough in prayer to be open to the questions He may have for me? He can ask some pretty good questions when we start praying. He will lead our hearts and minds in understanding and fulfilling His promises as we walk through the day.

“What do you have to say about yourself?”

I say, “I need you, God, during this time of wondering, ‘Will anything good come from this?'” Please give me the faith to recognize that you continually call us on a mission to share your love. You see me, and you see those I love so much. I care deeply for them.

As I was driving to a concert one evening, the excitement in the air was palpable. The anticipation of music and camaraderie filled my heart, but just as I glanced out the passenger window, a moment unfolded that would linger in my thoughts long after the concert ended.

A large turtle was making its way toward the busy traffic on I-95. Time appeared to slow as I watched it plod along, blissfully unaware of the danger looming ahead. At 65 miles an hour, there was no safe way to stop the car, but a surge of emotion rose in me. As my husband noticed my tears, he quickly took the next exit, maneuvering through the cloverleaf with a desperate hope to circle back and save this creature.

Yet, we arrived too late; the turtle was gone-hit by a car. In that instant, my tears transformed into a river of grief, pouring out for every moment of loss, confusion, and pain. Even as a child, I had found myself weeping over the fragile lives of baby birds that hadn’t survived or the stray animals I came across, whose stories abruptly ended. Why did I care so deeply? I often wonder, and it leads me to confront the underlying question: “Can anything good come out of this?” With each repetition of hurt and suffering, I could feel weariness creeping in, a heavy blanket that muffled the brightness of life. That turtle’s plight etched itself into my consciousness, and I found myself asking God in my prayer, “If you know this moment rattles my soul, why would you allow it?” I’m not angry—just curious.

It’s a feeling mirrored in the resonant words from John 1, where Jesus steps into a world filled with darkness, to reveal hope and love. Just as John the Baptist heralded His coming, preparing the way for His profound message, I’m reminded that Jesus came to embrace all our moments—the joyful and the tragic. “He sees me,” I whispered, reflecting on the profound idea that He knows my heartache, just as He knew where Nathanael stood under the fig tree.

In my own life, there’s a sense of comfort in understanding that nothing escapes His gaze; He acknowledges my pain and invites me to come to Him with it. In that space of reflection, I felt a beckoning to bring forth my sorrow, to lay it at His feet. Even through the heaviness of loss and the burdens of life, there lies an invitation to witness the good that can arise from it. “Come to me,” He says gently, “in your curiosity, your grief, your confusion.” As I processed that turtle’s demise, I found my heart also remembering the joy of the concert I was headed to—a reminder that life is a complex tapestry woven with both laughter and tears, celebration and loss.

Just like the disciples who left everything behind to follow Jesus, I realize that we all embark on our journeys, each step colored by our experiences. So, I choose to embrace the questions. I choose to carry my curiosities and heartaches into the presence of God, trusting that in His light, even the most painful moments can lead to transformation and healing over time.

Perhaps pain invites us to understand suffering more deeply, develop empathy, and recognize our shared humanity. My turtle moment becomes a gentle reminder of God’s invitation to step out of the shadows, find Him in the complexities of life, and trust that through Him, one day, good will emerge even from the most unexpected moments.

1. How do personal experiences and moments of loss influence our understanding of faith and purpose in life?

2. How can we intentionally seek God during times of uncertainty or transition, and what practices can help us be receptive to His guidance?

3. Reflecting on the story of Nathanael and his encounter with Jesus, how do we respond to challenges or doubts about our faith, and what questions do we have for God during those moments?

If you decide to get the study, let me know! I’d love to share insights and understandings.

This song is a tribute to Dr. King and is based on a powerful speech he gave, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop.” He delivered this speech in 1968, the day before he was assassinated.

I went up to the mountain
Because you asked me to
Up over the clouds
To where the sky was blue
I could see all around me
Everywhere
I could see all around me
Everywhere

Sometimes I feel like
I’ve never been nothing but tired
cnd I’ll be walking
Till the day I expire
Sometimes I lay down
No more can I do
But then I go on again
Because you ask me to

Some days I look down
cfraid I will fall
cnd though the sun shines
I see nothing at all
Then I hear your sweet voice, oh
Oh, come and then go, come and then go
Telling me softly
You love me so

The peaceful valley
Just over the mountain
The peaceful valley
Few come to know
I may never get there
Ever in this lifetime
But sooner or later
It’s there I will go
Sooner or later