Epiphany hunger

Isaiah 60: 1-6

Ephesians 3: 1-12

Matthew 2: 1-12

 

A drunk stumbles along a baptismal service on Sunday afternoon down by the
river.  He proceeds to walk down into the water and stand next to the preacher. The minister turns and notices the old drunk and says, "Mister, are you ready to find Jesus?"  The drunk looks back and says, "Yes, Preacher, I sure am."  The minister then dunks the fellow under the water and pulls him right back up. "Have you found Jesus?" the preacher asked.  Nooo, I didn't!" said the drunk.  The preacher then dunks him under for quite a bit longer, brings him up and says, "Now, brother, have you found Jesus?"  "Noooo, I have not, Reverend."  The preacher in disgust holds the man under for at least 30 seconds this
time, brings him out of the water and says in a harsh tone, "My God, man,
have you found Jesus yet?"  The old drunk wipes his eyes and says to the preacher, "Are you sure this is where he fell in?" 

 

I’ve found Jesus!  I have seen the light!   It reminds us of preachers with big hands standing on street corners, making everyone run a mile.  But the language of change, of sudden difference, of meeting God in a dramatic, life-changing way is straight from the Bible:  The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.   Wise men, looking in the dark sky for signs have suddenly seen something which has taken their breath away and changed everything.  This is something marvellous, says Paul, an enormous mystery, which we would never have a hope of understanding with our tiny minds, has been revealed, shown, exposed to us, to us out of all space, and time, out of all people.

 

It is an epiphany, a sudden realization of God, an experience which changes our lives.  Yes, there is much about having faith in Jesus that can feel quite normal, quite routine, even quite painful.  But for all this, a life without epiphanies is not the way it should be.  A whole life without some experience of the presence of God, some new understanding of just how amazing this is, some heart-stopping moment of awe is not what he intends.  “Look!”  he says.  “Look and wonder.  Be amazed.  You were walking in darkness.  And now you have seen a GREAT LIGHT.” 

 

If you have ever fallen in love with a person, place, or object, but most probably with a person, you will understand what an epiphany is.  It’s an experience which changes everything, even when we know that many things perhaps remain the same.  When I first became aware of God everything seemed suffused with his presence and purpose.  The whole question my life seemed directed around was “What does he want to do with me next?”  It was a great time.  A time of being let in on a secret.  A time of faith-quickening.

 

It was like the beginning of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, falling through the back of a wardrobe, and suddenly realising that there was a whole world you didn’t know about.  A world which seems initially peculiar, but ultimately more real than the previous one you had known.  There have been times when my experience of God, my own personal epiphanies, have felt like the end of the story, when the magnificent Jesus-figure, the lion Aslan, springs from his resurrection and shouts to the children, “Catch me if you can!”  He plays with them, he runs with them, he protects them. 

 

Epiphany takes us by the scruff of the neck at the beginning of the year, and reminds that the God who loves us is amazing.  That this revelation shines in all the world’s darkest places, for all people.  We can approach God with boldness and confidence.  Boldness and confidence – amazing!  We are servants of the gospel – incredible!  God works in us with power to take this to other people – stupendous!  We’ve been shown the wisdom of God!  We understand his eternal purpose!  We have seen the light!

 

But what about those of us for whom that light is dim?  For whom Narnia, that other realm which apparently touches ours so closely, seems a distant memory?  What about those of us for whom the touch of God, the experience of his presence, the boundlessness of his gifts, seems so hard to come by?  What about those of us for whom our first love has grown cold?  What about us as a church community, who have remained faithful, but for whom the past seems to hold more glory, more joy, more great light?  What is epiphany for us?

There was a young man who approached a hermit with this request:  “Show me how I can find God.”  “How great is this desire of yours?” asked the saintly man.  “More than anything in the world,” came the reply.  The hermit took the young man to the shore of a lake.  They waded into the water until it was up to their necks.  Then the holy man put his hand on the other’s head and pushed him under the water.  The young man struggled desperately, but the hermit did not release him until he was about to drown.  When they returned to the shore, the saint asked, “When you were under water, what did you want more than anything in the world?”  “Air,” he replied without much hesitation.  “Well, when you want to find God as much as you just then wanted air, your eyes will be opened to his wonder.”

Epiphany for us is a call to get desperate again.  To get hungry, to get restless, to be discontent.  Are you unhappy with the relationship you have with God?  Good!  Are you worried about your church?  Great!  Are you dissatisfied with the way that we are failing to reach people and God’s world?  Good.  Are you hungry for more spiritual reality?  Good – keep that hunger, that dissatisfaction, that unhappiness, that worry.  Keep it, and you will be like the wise men.  Because the Magi had a fever.  A quest-fever.  They didn’t know what they were looking for, but they were determined to find it. 

Better for them the uncomfortable journey than the contentment of home.  Better for them the new experiences than the old ones revisited.  Better for them the risk than the certainty.  Because at the end of it they saw a great light.

I know that I feel dissatisfied with the depth of my faith sometimes.  I know we all do.  I know that some of us don’t know when the last time we saw a great light was.  Or have almost given up on feeling that God may have a fresh, a new gift for us to receive and give out again.  But this year I don’t think it’s a bad thing if the Spirit of God reaches in and disturbs us.  I believe the greatest thing we each need to do as individuals is to get hungry for more revelation, more reality, more of this great light.  I believe that what we need as a church is a vision from God for this society, this culture, this time we are in which will require us to leave home and set out on a risky but exciting journey if we are to see this Jesus revealed to all peoples.  So let’s pack our bags, grab the gifts we have to bring and offer, and set out together for the promised future.  Let’s pray for the quest-fever today.  Let’s pray to be sent on a new journey.  Let’s pray for an epiphany.

 

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