In modern parlance, people say they’ve had an ‘epiphany’ when they’ve had a sudden moment of great realization. Often it’s about lifestyle or health or career.
And next week we have the conversion of St Paul – the original road to Damascus experience. But the readings chosen for today suggest we need to be a bit more nuanced. That Epiphany is not necessarily a season of sudden answers but rather a season of, sometimes, gradual recognition.
It is about light – but light that might dawn slowly rather than a blinding flash, that takes time to adjust our eyes, that reveals not only God’s presence but our own calling within it. Epiphany is less about spectacle and more about perception: learning to see what has been there all along.
The readings set before us today belong together because they share a common human experience: being called, yet unsure; waiting, yet hopeful; witnessing, yet not fully understanding.
Called before we feel ready
Isaiah 49 opens with a voice that dares to speak about calling before accomplishment, indeed before anything: ‘The Lord called me before I was born, while I was in my mother’s womb he named me.’
This is strong language. It claims purpose before performance. Identity before achievement. And yet, only a few verses later, the same voice confesses: ‘I have laboured in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing.’
This tension is crucial. Isaiah’s servant knows they are called but cannot see the fruit, or the point, of that calling. The work feels wasted. The effort seems ineffective.
Epiphany does not gloss over this reality. God’s calling does not always feel successful. Sometimes faithfulness looks like obscurity. Sometimes obedience feels unproductive.
And yet God responds – not by denying the servant’s weariness, but by widening the vision: ‘It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob… I will give you as a light to the nations.’
What the servant thought was failure turns out to be only partial sight. God’s purposes are much larger than the servant imagined.
Waiting – that teaches us to see
Psalm 40 gives voice to what it feels like to live in this space: ‘I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined and heard my cry.’
Waiting here is not passive resignation. It is active trust. The psalmist waits long enough to notice that God is bending close, inclining, to hear.
The psalmist is lifted from the pit, but notice the order: waiting first, then hearing, then rescue.
Epiphany vision is often formed in waiting. Those who rush too quickly to conclusions rarely see clearly. Those who wait, who remain attentive, are the ones who begin to recognise God’s movement.
Waiting sharpens our perception. It trains us to look for light in unlikely places.
A Church called before it’s complete
Paul writes to the church in Corinth – a community full of gifts and full of problems too. There is division, rivalry, confusion about leadership and identity. And yet Paul begins not with criticism, but gratitude: ‘I give thanks to my God always for you…’ He names them as those ‘called to be saints,’ lacking in no spiritual gift.
This is Epiphany theology applied to the church. God names identity before behaviour. God sees the end from the beginning.
Paul’s confidence is not in the Corinthians’ maturity, but in God’s faithfulness: ‘God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son.’
Epiphany reminds us that the Church, that’s us, exists not because it is flawless, but because God is faithful. God’s light shines not on a finished product, but on a people still in the process of becoming.
Witness, not explanation
In our reading from John, the focus narrows initially to a single figure: John the Baptist.
John is not the light. He is not the Messiah. He is not the centre of the story. His role is to witness – to point beyond himself. ‘Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.’
This is a bold claim, yet John immediately undercuts any sense of mastery: ‘I myself did not know him.’ Twice he says it. The witness does not claim certainty; he claims obedience. He tells the truth as he has received it.
Epiphany witness is not about having all the answers. It is about attentiveness to where the Spirit rests – and the humility to point and step aside.
The Lamb revealed
John names Jesus as the Lamb of God – a phrase dense with meaning. It evokes sacrifice, vulnerability, deliverance. This is not the image of a conquering hero, but of self-giving love.
Epiphany light does not reveal power as domination, but as costly mercy. The Lamb takes away the sin of the world not by force, but by offering himself.
This naming shapes everything that follows. Those who follow Jesus are drawn not by spectacle, but by the quiet gravity of love.
What are you looking for?
When Jesus finally speaks, it is with a question: ‘What are you looking for?’ Epiphany does not begin with correction, but with curiosity. Jesus honours desire before he reshapes it.
The disciples answer awkwardly, asking where Jesus is staying. It is a practical question – but also a spiritual one. Where do you abide? Where do you remain?
Jesus’ answer is disarmingly simple: ‘Come and see.’ No argument. No demand. Just invitation. Epiphany revelation is experiential. It cannot be grasped at a distance. It must be lived into.
Time spent changes everything
The disciples stay with Jesus. They spend time. And something shifts. Andrew goes and tells his brother Simon, ‘We have found the Messiah.’ Not with absolute certainty, but with excitement born of encounter.
Faith spreads here not through persuasion, but through relationship. One person tells another what they have seen. Epiphany light multiplies quietly.
Naming and becoming
When Simon comes to Jesus, he is seen and renamed: ‘You are Simon… you are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter).’ This naming is both promise and provocation. He will be a rock, but not yet. As we know, he will misunderstand, deny, and fail. But Jesus names him not for who he is now, but for who he is becoming.
Isaiah’s servant is named before birth. The Corinthians are named saints before maturity. Simon is named rock before faithfulness. Epiphany reveals identity not as something static, but as God’s slowly unfolding gift.
God’s faithfulness holds the story
Across all of our readings runs a single assurance: God is faithful. Faithful to the servant who feels spent. Faithful to the psalmist who waits. Faithful to a fractured church. Faithful to uncertain disciples.
God’s faithfulness is the light by which everything else is seen. Epiphany is not about human clarity. It is about divine constancy
Living as an Epiphany people
To live in Epiphany is to trust the light we have been given, even when it feels partial. It is to wait without despair. To witness without control. To follow without full understanding. To believe that God’s purposes are wider than our vision.
The Lamb of God has been revealed – not to overwhelm us, but to invite us. And that invitation, made to the first disciples, still stands to you and to me today: Come and see. Come and see. Amen.
A Blessing for Epiphany
May the God who called you by name
before you were ready,
before you were certain,
before you were strong,
shine light upon your path.May Christ, the Lamb of God,
draw you deeper into his life,
teaching you to see with mercy
and to follow with trust.May the Spirit who rests and remains
strengthen you in waiting,
guide you in witness,
and hold you in hope
until God’s work is complete.And the blessing of God almighty,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
be among you and remain with you always.Amen.
‘Called out of waiting’ was delivered by Ian Banks at St John and St Mark’s on Sunday 18th January 2026. It was based on Isaiah 49:1-7, Psalm 40:1-12, 1 Corinthians 1:1-9 and John 1:29-42.