Jesus Sees Us: Nathanael, the Fig Tree, and Being Known by God

In an earlier post, I wrote about the moment my calling became clear:

"God called me to draw on everything I've learned—every skill I've developed—and apply it to this ministry. It's as though my whole adult life was meant to culminate here. I was blown away. It was an emotional moment."

Why did that moment hit so hard? I found the answer in an unlikely place: a short conversation between Jesus and a skeptic named Nathanael.

The Chosen captures the Nathanael scene beautifully. Watch it here.

"How do you know me?" Nathanael meets Jesus (John 1:45–49)

Nathanael came from Cana, a small village in Galilee, the northern region Herod Antipas ruled under Rome. Cana and Nazareth were neighbors—small villages a few miles apart, in the shadow of the city of Sepphoris.

In just a few lines, John's Gospel paints a clear picture of him: honest, blunt, skeptical, and sincere. When his friend Philip invited Nathanael to meet the one Moses and the prophets wrote about—Jesus of Nazareth—he scoffed: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (John 1:46, ESV). Let's just say Nathanael's expectations weren't high. But he went anyway.

Jesus greeted him: "Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!" (John 1:47, ESV)

Nathanael asked, "How do you know me?"

Jesus answered, "Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you." (John 1:48, ESV)

Nathanael was convinced on the spot: "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" (John 1:49, ESV)

So he goes from "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" to "You are the Son of God!"—just like that? How does that work? What was so special about their exchange?

How do you know me?

The power of the question is in how you say it. How do YOU know me? Or how do you KNOW me?

Was Nathanael defensive or mystified? We have no way of knowing, but judging by what he said next, I think he was mystified. In that instant, he felt known.

Relationship researchers Harry Reis and Phillip Shaver describe that feeling as being understood, validated, and cared for by someone who responds to what you reveal. But Nathanael hadn't revealed anything. Jesus already knew.

Psalm 139 puts it this way:

"O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether." (Psalm 139:1–4, ESV)

Maybe that's what Nathanael felt. Not "How do YOU know who I am?" but "How do you KNOW me?"

I saw you

"Being seen" is a popular phrase these days, and for good reason. To be seen is to be understood and recognized for who you really are—your struggles, your inner life, all of it.

That's what Jesus gave Nathanael in three words: I SAW you.

Why the fig tree matters

In Scripture, sitting under your own fig tree is a picture of peace—God's blessing and the hope of a Savior still to come (Micah 4:4; Zechariah 3:10). Later rabbinic writings describe teachers studying Scripture in the shade of fig trees.

Picture Nathanael alone under that tree. Quiet. Searching. Waiting on God's promises. The Gospel doesn't say what he was doing there. I like to think he was praying.

What this has to do with us

So when Nathanael asked, "How do you know me?" Jesus' answer came down to this: I saw you when you were searching, when you were asking for help, when no one was looking.

That's why my own moment hit so hard. When I prayed about my calling, I was ready to settle for less. I was ready to do penance for the years and the moments I lost to drinking.

But Jesus saw me. He gave me something beyond my imagination—something that draws on everything I've learned and takes me places I've never been. Something that demands faith and humility. Something that challenges me and pushes me to grow and to trust in Him. He knew that's what I needed. He knows me better than I know myself.

It wasn't the first time. I emerged from prayer convinced God wanted me to join a prison ministry. Then I hijacked the plan. I reduced down to something I could understand — that it would be a fresh start. Maybe it would even humble me—That's right, I'd humble myself to serve those men.

I was off by a mile. Joining that ministry was God's plan, but I had no idea how much it would humble me. It still does.

There's nothing more humbling than sitting in a room with men serving life sentences and knowing I'm no more worthy of God's love and mercy than they are.

You can hear it in "Washed."

I'm not special. It just took me a long time to learn this.

When you're alone, when you're searching, when you're struggling—the God who created you sees you. His answer will come. And there's a good chance it will blow you away too.

If this landed for you, pass it on to someone who needs to hear it. And please pray for me and for this ministry.

Peace!