There’s a quiet scene in a novel called Gilead, written as a long letter from an aging father to his young son. He knows he won’t live to see his son grow up, so he tries to leave behind more than advice. He wants to give his son insight into his life, what he valued, what he noticed, and what he felt. As he reflects on his own father, he remembers how he would crouch down outdoors, completely absorbed in the landscape as if no one else around him even existed. Although the son saw his father every day and could describe his routines or predict his reactions, he still felt like he didn’t really know him. The deeper things, the things that make someone known, felt out of reach.
That experience isn’t unique to that story but is true of many relationships. You can live in the same house with someone and still feel distant from them. You can sit across the table for years and still not understand what they think or how they feel. Familiarity does not always lead to intimacy. And that quiet distance doesn’t only happen in families or friendships, but can show up in our relationship with God. We can hear His words, repeat His promises, follow His ways, and still not know Him as we should. That was the tension building beneath the surface in the upper room.
By the time we reach John 14, the disciples are unraveling. Jesus has just told them, “Where I am going, you cannot come,” and the room has grown tense. Peter pushes back, Thomas voices confusion, and Philip, echoing the uncertainty of them all, asks to see the Father. They are not rejecting Jesus; they are clinging to Him. For three years, He has been their window into the presence of God. He has told them that “He who sees Me sees the One who sent Me.” But now He speaks of leaving, and it feels like the door to God is closing. Their understanding of who God is and how He works is completely tied to the person of our Lord. They had come to know God with their senses: watching Jesus, walking beside Him, hearing His voice, and even eating with Him. For them, God’s presence wasn’t abstract or mystical but had skin and sandals. So, when Jesus says He is going away, it doesn’t just feel like loss, it feels like losing their only connection to God. Jesus reminds them of what they already know. Let’s read,
John 14:1-11 NASB: “Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. 2 “In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. 3 “If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also. 4 “And you know the way where I am going.” 5 Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, how do we know the way?” 6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me. 7 “If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; from now on you know Him, and have seen Him.” 8 Philip said to Him, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.” 9 Jesus said to him, “Have I been so long with you, and yet you have not come to know Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? 10 “Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in Me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on My own initiative, but the Father abiding in Me does His works. 11 “Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me; otherwise believe because of the works themselves.
The disciples are not emotionally distant from Jesus. He means everything to them. They have left their jobs, their families, and their reputations to follow Him. Along the way, He has calmed their fears, fed their hunger, answered their questions, and remained faithful through their failures. He is not just their teacher; He is their Lord. And they do not just follow Him; they love Him. Over time, He has become their entire framework for understanding who God is. So, when Jesus begins to speak about leaving them to go to the Father, they feel unsettled. It is not because they doubt the Father’s existence, but because everything they know about God is tied to the voice, presence, and nearness of Jesus.
That is why Philip asks Jesus to show them the Father. It sounds like a sincere expression of faith, but underneath it reveals a kind of spiritual blindness. The Father feels abstract to the disciples because their knowledge of Him, compared to their knowledge of Jesus, is still detached from direct experience. They cannot point to a specific, sensory instance where they have seen or touched or heard the Father the way they have seen, touched, and heard Jesus. In response, Jesus offers a gentle but pointed correction: “Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know Me?”
By looking at Jesus, the disciples have been seeing the heart of the Father all along. They listened to Him, walked with Him, and shared meals with Him. But they do not yet realize it. They are close, but still not seeing clearly. It is like a son who can describe his father’s habits, but not his heart. The disciples follow Jesus yet still do not grasp that the fullness of God has been revealed in Him. When Philip asks to see the Father, Jesus does not point to a vision, or a voice from heaven, or a future display of glory. Instead, He points to Himself. In the middle of their confusion, He says, in effect, “You already know Him. You have already seen Him. You are looking at Him.” Because…
When You See Jesus, You See the Father.
John 14:7 NASB: “If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; from now on you know Him, and have seen Him.”
The Lord is not suggesting that the disciples are strangers to Him. They have followed Him, believed in Him, and confessed that He is the Christ, the Son of the living God. But their knowledge, while sincere, is still incomplete. They understand Him as Messiah, yet they have not grasped the full weight of what that means. They have seen His power, His compassion, and His authority, but they do not yet realize that, in Him, “all the fullness of Deity dwells in bodily form” (Colossians 2:9). They have seen the glory but have not recognized it as divine. Jesus is not simply the way to God, “He is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His nature” (Hebrews 1:3). To know Him is to know the Father, not indirectly, but personally, fully, and faithfully.
Jesus goes on to say, “From now on you know Him, and have seen Him.” Although their understanding is still unfolding, Jesus assures them that real knowledge of the Father has already begun. In seeing Him, they have seen the visible image of the invisible God. After the resurrection, their recognition will grow clearer. When the risen Christ appears to Thomas, he finally sees Jesus for who He is and declares, “My Lord and my God!” And when the Holy Spirit comes, their experience of the Father will deepen even further. They will no longer believe only that Jesus was sent by God but come to know that Jesus is God. But right now, they are still not there. Philip speaks up and gives voice to the uncertainty they are all feeling.
John 14:8 NASB Philip said to Him, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.”
Though sincere, Philip’s request reveals the kind of faith that still depends on sight. It is the kind of faith that is never fully satisfied because it leans on the senses and lacks the depth that comes from trust. The Lord will not accommodate that kind of faith. He has already given them more than a vision by giving them Himself. Those who demand signs, miracles, or prophetic experiences are never satisfied and always chasing the next greater experience. The longing for visions or dramatic displays of God’s power are not new. The idea that God must prove Himself again and again on our terms, is as common today as it was in Philip’s request. It is the same assumption that fuels modern skepticism & emotionalism alike.
Faith driven by signs & wonders is shallow.
Many churches today offer the same answer Philip was hoping: visions, signs, and wonders. They promise that if you have enough faith, your eyes will see supernatural phenomena, your ears will hear new revelation from God, or you will feel something unexplainable sweep through the room. They claim that their words have the spiritual authority to manipulate reality. But Jesus never yields to these kinds of demands. Nor does He call for more signs or a deeper religious experience. He always points the disciples back to Himself. We don’t need to see more spectacles; we need eyes to see what God has already shown us in Christ.
And the sad truth is that many Christians are not satisfied with the Jesus of Scripture. They want a Jesus who will perform on cue, or a God they can feel more than follow. But Scripture never tells us to chase that kind of experience. It tells us to believe what God has already revealed. It tells us to know God, not by demanding signs, but by trusting the Son. Thus, Jesus says to Philip….
John 14:9 NASB Jesus said to him, “Have I been so long with you, and yet you have not come to know Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?
It is not a harsh rebuke, but a loving confrontation. The issue is not that God has been silent but that the disciples have not fully recognized the One who has been speaking all along. Jesus is not a shadow or a pointer to something greater; He is the greater. He is not the first glimpse of the Father; He is the image of the invisible God, the radiance of His glory, the exact imprint of His nature. If we want to know what God is like, we don’t need more signs or clearer skies or a louder voice. We need to look at Jesus as He is revealed in Scripture. He is God’s Word, God’s face, and God’s heart made visible.
God’s goal is not to overwhelm us.
If He revealed the full weight of His glory we would have no choice but to submit. Our freedom would collapse in the presence of His majesty. We would be undone by it. John 1:18 says, “No one can see God and live.” Moses asked to see God and was only permitted to see a partial revelation of God’s backside as He passed by. Isaiah and Ezekiel saw softned visions of God’s glory, but not His full presence or they would’ve died on the spot. When God veils Himself, He is not being distant, He is being merciful. He reveals enough to awaken faith, and He withholds enough to preserve it. He does not want forced compliance. He wants a relationship grounded in trust. Which is why Jesus, who is fully God, came veiled in human flesh. God’s partial hiddenness protects us, but it also invites us.
When humans perceive God’s power without a foundation of trust, we usually attempt to manipulate or control it. The Israelites attempted to transform the invisible God into a controllable idol in Exodus 32. King Saul treats the Ark of the Covenant as a talisman to harness God’s power for personal gain in 1 Samuel 13. Simon the Magician offers money to acquire the ability to impart the Holy Spirit. That’s why we often try to redefine God’s commands, reframe His character, or use religious language to get what we want. The instinct of our fallen humanity is not submission to God but competition with Him. When something is entirely visible and explainable, we stop relating to it in awe and start relating to it technically or transactionally. This is why we don’t worship the sun, but study it. It’s why the Israelites, when the manna kept falling, started to complain about it. Even in human relationships, complete transparency can lead to taking the other for granted. In marriage, while deep knowledge fosters intimacy, maintaining a sense of mystery keeps the relationship dynamic and respectful. For finite beings to love an infinite God, some degree of mystery is essential.
Scripture tells us that God rewards those who seek Him. And often, it is the very ache of not seeing that stirs the heart to pursue. Blaise Pascal once described our condition as seeing too much to deny God’s existence, but too little to be certain. That tension is not meant to paralyze us. It is meant to drive us toward God with urgency. If we saw nothing at all, we would not search for Him. But if we saw everything clearly, we would not need faith. So God gives just enough to stir the heart and awaken the longing. He hides, not to frustrate us, but to draw us. This is exactly what Jesus does for Philip. He does not overwhelm him with raw power or dazzle him with a vision. Instead, He invites him to look again, not with his eyes, but with faith.
When Jesus says to Philip, “Have I been with you so long, and still you do not know Me?” realize that it is possible to sit through sermons, sing worship songs, and still not know Him. It’s possible to hear His words and feel nothing, not because He isn’t speaking, but because our hearts have grown dull. And I wonder how many of us would say we know God personally, while quietly admitting we’re no longer moved by Him. When someone has been hearing Jesus and not responding with worship, they’re not just tuning out a preacher, they’re failing to recognize God speaking. Which brings us to the next truth in this passage…
When You Hear Jesus, You Hear the Father.
John 14:10 NASB: “Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in Me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on My own initiative…
Jesus presses Philip gently, but unmistakably. “Do you not believe?” Philip has walked with Him, eaten beside Him, and listened to His teaching for three years. Yet somehow, he has not yet grasped that when Jesus speaks, the Father is speaking. The words that come from His mouth are not separate from God; they are from God. Jesus’ words are not just inspired by the Father but are the Father’s words, because the Father is in the Son, and the Son is in the Father. Jesus is not borrowing the Father’s authority but a sharing the Father’s identity.
This means we don’t get to treat the words of Christ as one voice among many. We can’t weigh His voice the way we weigh the thoughts of a teacher or prophet. These are not reflections about God. These are the words of the Father Himself, made known through the Son. Hebrews 1 says that God, “in many ways, in these last days has spoken to us in His Son.” And John 12:49 says that Jesus did not speak on His own, but only what the Father commanded Him to say. Every word Christ speaks carries divine weight.
Which raises the question: do we listen like we believe that? If we say we know God personally, how do we respond when He speaks? Not just in private devotion, but when His Word is opened publicly, when the Son is proclaimed. How many of us would claim to treasure Christ, yet our eyes drift, our minds wander, and our hearts remain unmoved while His voice is speaking. It’s possible to hear sermons every week and still not know the One speaking through them. It’s possible to hear Jesus and not recognize that God is addressing us. That was Philip’s problem. And it might be ours, too.
Spiritual hearing is a battle of the heart.
Don’t tell me the human heart is neutral toward God. It’s not. We dodge His voice, downplay His Word, delay repentance, and desire everything else more than Him. That’s not passivity. That’s war. The Bible calls it the flesh. And the flesh doesn’t want God. It wants control. It wants comfort. It wants distraction. And Satan is content to keep us entertained and numb, so long as we don’t see the glory of Christ. That’s why desire for God isn’t automatic. It’s a fight. A fight for joy. A fight to hear. And it’s not won by effort alone. God must awaken it. But that doesn’t mean we do nothing. It means we open His Word, we listen again, we pray for sight, and we refuse to settle for cold hearts in the presence of a glorious Savior.
We live in a culture where everything must entertain us or it gets ignored. If a video doesn’t grab your attention in three seconds, you scroll. If a sermon doesn’t spark emotion, you check out. If the music isn’t exciting, it must not be worship. The modern church often mimics this addiction to stimulation. We try to manufacture spiritual highs through emotional manipulation, loud music, dim lights, or flashy words. But Jesus doesn’t do that. He doesn’t raise His voice or create a scene. He just speaks. And His words carry divine weight. He says what the Father says. He reveals what the Father is doing. And if that’s not enough for us, if we need more than the words of Christ to be moved, then the problem isn’t with His voice. It’s with our hearts. Jesus doesn’t just say the Father is behind His words, He says the Father is working through them.
John 14:10 NASB: …but the Father abiding in Me does His works.
When Jesus is teaching the Father is doing something. He’s not just revealing truth but accomplishing it. His voice carries power, not just to inform, but to awaken, convict, heal, forgive, and raise the dead. Which means the Word of Christ is never idle. When we hear Him, something is happening. God is not only speaking, He is acting. The question is not, “Did you understand the sermon?” The question is, “Did you receive what the Father was doing through His Word?”
The primary way we hear the voice of Jesus, the voice of the Father, is through the written Word. You don’t need a fresh vision. You need to listen to what He has already said. The Bible’s authority does not depend on our feelings. If the Bible bores you, the problem isn’t the book. It’s that your heart doesn’t yet tremble at the sound of God’s voice.
If your heart doesn’t tremble at His voice, the answer is not to fake emotion or force intensity. The answer is to believe. To trust Him. Jesus knows we struggle. He knows we’re slow to recognize, slow to respond, slow to trust. That’s why He doesn’t walk away from Philip. He leans in. He says, “Believe Me,” not to rebuke, but to restore. And that’s what He says to us as well. If the weight of His words hasn’t moved you, then look at what He’s done. Let His works preach. Let His love persuade you.
When You Trust Jesus, You Trust the Father.
John 14:11 NASB: “Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me; otherwise believe because of the works themselves.
Jesus ends this exchange with a gracious invitation, not a demand for stronger faith. He simply says, “Believe Me.” In other words, trust what I’ve said and trust what I’ve shown. Even if everything still feels unclear, even if your understanding is still growing, believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me. And if that feels too heavy to hold right now, then look at the works you’ve already seen, the healings, the forgiveness, the calming of storms, the raising of the dead. These weren’t random acts of power. They were signs, pointing clearly to the truth of who He is. Jesus isn’t rebuking Philip out of frustration. He’s shepherding him with patience. He’s showing us that even weak or hesitant faith is welcome, as long as it keeps turning toward Him.
But what happens if we don’t trust Him? If we hear the voice of Christ and keep demanding more evidence, more signs, more clarity, we harden. Just like Israel hardened in the wilderness, just like many who saw His miracles and still turned away. Jesus gives Philip a gentle invitation because He wants his faith to grow, not stall. And it does. After the resurrection, Philip is still following. And years later, John writes that “these things 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” (John 20:31). That’s the goal, not spiritual hype, not religious familiarity, but living, breathing trust in the Son. Because when you trust Jesus, you trust the Father. And when you trust the Father, you have life.
Conclusion
Do you remember the story I told you from Gilead? The son who lived every day with his father, watched him, even admired him, but still felt he didn’t really know him? That image lingers, because I wonder how many of us have walked beside Jesus, heard His voice in Scripture, sung His name in songs, and yet do not truly know Him. What if Jesus is saying to you today what He said to Philip: ‘Have I been so long with you, and still you do not know Me?’ If your heart is unmoved, if your worship is distracted, if your affections are dull, don’t walk away shamed. Look again.
Knowing God is not just about agreeing with the facts. It is a moral crisis. Jesus said, “People loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil” (John 3:19). Paul wrote, “The mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God” (Romans 8:7). To believe in the real God is not to sit comfortably with new information. It is to confront our guilt, His holiness, and our helplessness. And unless the heart is changed by grace, no amount of evidence, no number of signs or proofs, will ever produce love, worship, or obedience. And no amount of emotional hype, no music, no atmosphere, no manipulated moment, can substitute for real repentance and faith. But if the Spirit has awakened you, even just a little, then the invitation stands: Look at Christ. Listen to Him. Trust Him. Because to know Him is to know the Father. And that is life.
God made us and rightly claims authority over our lives. We do not belong to ourselves, and we are not free to ignore Him or redefine what He has declared. Yet all of us have done exactly that. We have resisted His rule, dismissed His voice, and lived as though our way is better than His. That is what Scripture calls sin. And the consequence of sin is not just physical death but eternal separation from the God who made us. But this is why Jesus came. He lived the obedient life we refused to live, and He died the death we deserved to die. Then, on the third day, He rose again to offer forgiveness, restoration, and eternal life to all who place their trust in Him. That offer still stands today. If you hear His voice, do not harden your heart. Come to Christ.
