It’s a question that reveals both impatience and hope - the sense that somewhere ahead lies rest, fulfilment and perhaps even home. And with any journey or long-awaited moment there does come a time when the waiting ends: we’ve arrived, the day has come. But if we’ve grown used to waiting, or if hope has worn thin, it can take a moment to wake up to the reality that we are there.

This seems to be where John the Baptist finds himself in today’s gospel. Imprisoned by Herod and facing the prospect of torture and death, he reaches a moment of deep uncertainty: Has his mission been in vain? Has the Holy One truly arrived? And so he sends his disciples to Jesus with the question: “Are you the one who is to come, or must we wait for someone else?”

Jesus responds not with words, but with evidence.

He says “Go back and tell John what you see.”

And what they see is astonishing: because the blind are receiving sight, the lame walking, the dead are being raised, and the poor are hearing good news. In other words: Yes. The Son of God does, indeed, walk upon the earth - and here is the incontrovertible proof.

Maybe in this we might find an answer to our often quietly spoken questions: Is the Lord real? Does He truly accompany me and those I love through our life? Is His grace really at work within me? Will His Kingdom come?

In terms of faith, it’s important that we don’t settle for that common mindset: “Well, I don’t know the truth of it all, but faith provides me with a good moral structure by which to live.”

If reduce faith simply to a moral code we strip it of its power, it becomes a mere shadow of something that is meant to pulse with fire and life. A faith without life cannot give life. It cannot shine a light in the darkness or prepare us for the great challenges that come our way. Like the house built on sand, it collapses when the storms come. Many people out there who once thought they believed can testify to this – it’s why they’re not in here. Their faith has not withstood the pressures of life.

Faith without conviction is like one of those empty seashells we pick up on the beach: pleasing to look at, but hollow inside, because the creature that once lived there has long since departed. (>>) Think of the account in John’s gospel of the healing of the blind man at the pool of Siloam when Jesus mixed mud with spittle and anointed the man’s eyes. There, Jesus suggests that the deeper problem lies not with those who cannot see, but with those who refuse to see - whose pride keeps them from a wholehearted commitment.

Part of learning to see involves un-learning: letting go of half-remembered folk religion or inherited assumptions that detract from the Kingdom. This matters because, when our understanding of God is distorted, then our witness becomes distorted too, and less effective.

Poor theology spreads easily, and when it does, it can obstruct people on their journey toward God. We should all be unsettled by the saying “the faith is caught, not taught,” because it reminds us that belief is transmitted less by explanation than by example. That is a sobering responsibility. Whether as parents or grandparents, teachers, catechists, ministers or priests - or simply as friends and colleagues - we inevitably shape the faith of those who watch how we live.

Knowledge alone is not enough. Faith that remains abstract or performative rarely gives life. What draws others is faith that is authentic, prayed, wrestled with, and embodied – faith that has been tested and still trusts. Only such faith can be contagious.

So the question presses in on us: is our faith something others can catch, or is it merely something we are trying to hold together ourselves, something hanging by a thread? If the latter, what are we going to do about it? Are we prepared to accept the call of discipleship?

The invitation of the gospel is to delve deeper: to invest in our faith through intelligent thought, honest research, and prayer that opens the heart. This is how we train our spiritual sight to recognise God’s hand at work - in our lives and in the world around us.

Do you remember the Magic Eye pictures? They were all the rage in the 1990’s. Science calls them autostereograms. At first glance, they look like nothing more than random and repetitive series of squiggles, colours and patterns. But if you focus looking through the image rather than at it, a 3D picture emerges from the chaos – perhaps a car, an animal or some such thing. Some can see it instantly; others need time; and others dismiss it as nonsense because they can’t see anything. Yet the image is always there, even if it’s hidden, unseen.

So it is with the Kingdom of God. It is already among us. God’s grace is at work in our world, often quietly and, many times, unnoticed.

John’s disciples were blessed to witness miracles with their own eyes. We may not be, but God’s grace is no less present or powerful in our world, healing hidden wounds, breathing hope into spirits broken by grief, and speaking good news to hearts grown weary. The Christian life is rarely clear while we are living it. Yet when we pause and reflect, we often find that the tapestry of our life bears the unmistakable marks of God’s faithful and patient grace.

We need not fear surrendering ourselves to God, then. He doesn’t erase who we are. Rather, He draws out who we were always meant to be. So, faith, lived properly, makes us a more authentic version of ourselves. And the more authentic we are, the more people are drawn to the faith that has transformed us. This is evangelisation at its most powerful: allowing the Gospel to take such deep root in us that our lives themselves begin to speak, and faith becomes, quite naturally, infectious.

So where are we on our journey of faith? “Are we nearly there yet?” Perhaps. Perhaps not. The road ahead may still disappear over the horizon. But Advent reminds us that the destination is drawing close, nevertheless.

As we continue this pilgrimage of faith, Advent offers a simple yet demanding invitation: stay awake. Let grace sharpen your sight. Notice, and remember, the signs you are given.