Epiphany is a season that calls us to notice those moments when God breaks through into our lives. Scripture is full of such theophanies, little theophanies — moments when we catch a glimpse of God’s presence. Think, for instance, of Moses before the burning bush, a shepherd in the wilderness encountering flame that does not consume. Or Jacob, exhausted and frightened, laying his head on a stone while fleeing from his brother and dreaming of a ladder stretching up into heaven. Or the prophet Elijah, shivering in a cave, fleeing the king who wants to take his life, expecting God in the wind or the earthquake or the fire — but instead meeting the Lord in the sound of sheer silence. Even the disciples, straining at the oars in the rough waters of the Sea of Galilee, see Jesus walking toward them across the waves, and He says, “Do not be afraid. I am here.”
These are moments of divine self-revelation. But here’s the thing: theophanies are not always dramatic. They are not always pillars of fire or thundering voices from heaven. More often than not, they come quietly, in moments so ordinary that many will pass them by without recognition. That’s why Epiphany is not just about the event or events themselves — it is also about the transformation of our perception. It is about our capacity to recognize that God is at work in both the extraordinary and the everyday, in the events that make headlines and in the quiet rhythms of our own lives.
Last week in my sermon, I pointed out the parallels between the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt and the story of Moses fleeing to Midian. Both are stories of danger, of exile, of God’s people caught in the often violent currents of history. And, they remind us that God speaks not only through miracles but also through the events of human life—even through suffering and uncertainty. Now, let me take this one more step; if God can speak through the patterns of Scripture, then God can speak through our world today. In that sense, history and our current events can be seen as a series of theophanies—if we have the eyes to see.
But let us be clear and add a caveat to that statement: not everything that happens in history is God’s will. Sin and suffering, cruelty and disaster—these are not of God. A theophany is not God causing evil to happen, but God making God’s self known even in the midst of what happens. God works within history, not always to explain, and not always to prevent, but always to redeem.
This is why discernment matters – especially when we reflect on moments of epiphany. We may yearn for theophanies to be spectacular, easy to identify. But Scripture shows us that God’s presence is often subtle. We may only recognize it in hindsight, after we have trained our hearts and our vision to see. Contrary to that, Jesus’ baptism is a rare moment of clarity. The voice from heaven affirms His belovedness before He is driven into the wilderness — note that the voice comes before the trial, not instead of it. So often, God’s revelation does not remove us from history. It sends us more deeply into it.
More of this in the sermon this week…
You can access the sermon directly at this link.
