Epiphany in a Time of Darkness

Advent meets us in the darkest part of the year. The days are shorter. The nights come early. We feel the absence of light not only in the sky, but in our bodies and in our world. Advent does not rush to fix that. It teaches us how to wait. We light candles week by week on a wreath in church and put lights up around our homes during this time of year as a way to show that the darkness has no claim on us as we wait for the light.

Christmas day arrives as a big celebration of decor, gift exchanges, gatherings, and family traditions. We celebrate because the light is born into the world. And though our capitalistic society makes it a big production, Christ was born into the world not with spectacle, but with vulnerability. God enters human history in the middle of the night, in the middle of ordinary life. And the church refuses to let that moment be rushed or reduced to a single day.

That is why Christmas stretches beyond December 25. The twelve days of Christmas (sometimes mistaken to be the days leading up to Christmas day--that is advent, not the 12 days of Christmas) invite us to linger with the incarnation, to let the miracle settle in rather than move on too quickly. And as those days draw to a close, Epiphany begins. Epiphany is not about birth, but about recognition.

The magi help us understand this but unlike many of our nativity scenes on display, they were not present at Jesus’ birth. They arrived later. They followed another light, a star, trusting it would guide them toward something truer. Their wisdom was not in perfect knowledge or perfect timing, but instead it was in their willingness to follow the light they had until it led them to the light of Christ.

Epiphany teaches us that God’s light does not demand certainty before it reveals itself. It meets us on the road. It unfolds over time. And it shows up not only for those who were waiting at the manger, but for those who are still searching. Going into this new year and with today being Epiphany of our Lord--Where might the light of Christ guide you if you dare to take the first step of that journey? Hold this question with you as your reflect up on our Epiphany scriptures for today.

The lectionary texts for Epiphany are honest about the world into which this light is revealed. Isaiah names it plainly: darkness covers the earth. That line does not need much explanation to feel true. We live in a time of unrest, fear, and deep division. Many of us carry long memories of conflict and its consequences. As a generation that grew up watching wars begin with promises and end with fallout, it is hard not to feel the weight of what continues to unfold across the globe today. I'm not one to preach politics but I cannot ignore what is happening in places like Venezuela right now. It feels familiar to me as one who grew up in the Bush Era. It reminds us that decisions made in power ripple outward and land in real human lives.

Epiphany does not ask us to solve all of this. It asks us to see clearly in the light of God--not through the lens of the news media or politician.

“Arise, shine; for your light has come.” Not because the darkness has disappeared, but because God is present within it.

Psalm 72 imagines leadership shaped not by domination, but by justice and mercy. It speaks of rulers who defend the poor, rescue the oppressed, and take responsibility for the vulnerable. This vision matters in a world where power is often exercised without compassion and where the consequences are borne by those with the least protection.

Ephesians reminds us of something equally grounding. God’s plan has always been bigger than borders, nations, and the identities we try to protect. The mystery revealed in Christ is not exclusion, but inclusion. Gentiles, outsiders, and those once considered far off are named as heirs. This is not a new idea God is trying out. It is the intention that has been there all along.

And then Matthew tells the story of the magi. Foreigners. Outsiders. People who notice the light while powerful leaders feel threatened by it. They cross borders. They bring what they have. They encounter fear in the halls of power and joy in the presence of Christ. And when they leave, they go home by another road. The world does not suddenly become safe. Herod remains in power. Violence still looms. But the magi choose a different way. Epiphany does not promise us control. It offers us direction.

In a time of darkness, faith is not denial. Faith is attention. Faith is refusing to let fear decide who deserves compassion or who belongs in the light. Faith is trusting that God is still revealing God’s self, even now.

The light of Christ has been born. And in Epiphany, that light is being revealed.

Scriptures for Reading and Reflection

• Isaiah 60:1–6

  • Where do you see darkness named honestly, and where do you hear a call to rise anyway?

• Psalm 72:1–7, 10–14

  • What kind of leadership does this psalm imagine, and how does it challenge how we understand power?

• Ephesians 3:1–12

  • What does it mean to live as people included in God’s mystery rather than guarding access to it?

• Matthew 2:1–12

  • Where do you see fear, courage, and joy in this story? What might “walking another road” look like in your own life?

Prayer

God of light, in a world that often feels heavy with darkness, open our eyes to where your light is already breaking through. Give us the courage to follow the light we are given, even when the path is unfamiliar. Soften our hearts toward our neighbors, near and far. Help us resist apathy, choose compassion, and walk the roads that lead toward justice and peace. In this season of Epiphany, reveal yourself again, and teach us how to live as people of your light. Amen.