John ends his Gospel by inviting us to believe, but perhaps belief is only the beginning. What kind of life grows when belief becomes trust? In this conversation with an aging John, I discover that transformation isn't found in dramatic moments but in learning to see the Father through Jesus and quietly living into that vision, one ordinary day at a time.

After Millie died, the easy answers about God no longer worked. Four years into my journey through John’s Gospel, I returned to two verses at the end of chapter 20 and imagined John inviting me to stand where he stood, look again, and see what Jesus wanted us to understand about the Father.

In John 20:1–10, Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the beloved disciple all see the empty tomb, but they do not see it in the same way. Mary sees through the eyes of grief and alarm. Peter sees carefully, studying the evidence. The beloved disciple sees and believes, though he still does not fully understand.

This post explores those different ways of seeing, not as a ranking of faith, but as a deeply human journey. Sometimes we first see only absence. Sometimes we examine the facts. And sometimes, if grace is given, another kind of seeing begins to open.

I reflect on this passage through my own experience of losing Millie. Her absence remains real. The facts remain real. But over time, I began to see love moving through the people who came toward our family in compassion. The deeper seeing did not erase the loss. It kept absence from having the only word.