Sunday 04 January 2026 Epiphany of the Lord - (Year A)

These three readings proclaim God’s word; let us prepare to listen and receive the Eucharist.

Isaiah 60:1–6

“Arise, shine out, for your light has come…”

There are moments in Scripture when God does not simply speak to His people. He summons them. Isaiah 60 is one of those moments. It begins not with comfort, nor with explanation, but with a command that is almost a jolt to the soul:

“Arise, shine out, Jerusalem, for your light has come.”

It is spoken to a people who have known exile, disappointment, and long stretches of darkness. They are not at their strongest. They are not triumphant. They are not radiant. And yet God says: Arise. Shine. Your light has come.

This is the first great truth of the passage: God’s call does not wait for our circumstances to improve. God speaks light into our darkness before we see any evidence of dawn.

God’s Light Rises While Darkness Still Covers the Earth

Isaiah is honest: “Night still covers the earth, and darkness the peoples.” The world is not yet healed. The nations are still confused. Jerusalem is still rebuilding. And yet God’s glory rises.

This is the pattern of God’s work throughout Scripture:

• Creation begins with darkness before God says, “Let there be light.”

• Abraham is called while he is still childless.

• Moses is sent while Israel is still enslaved.

• Mary receives the angel’s message before anything in her life makes sense of it.

• The Magi follow a star through the night before they ever find the Christ.

God’s light does not wait for perfect conditions. It creates the conditions. And so, Isaiah says: “Above you the Lord now rises.” Not later. Not eventually. Now.

God’s Light Makes Us Radiant

Isaiah does not say, “Shine because you are impressive.” He says, “Shine because your light has come.” The radiance is not self-generated. It is reflected glory.

Think of the moon. It has no light of its own. Yet on a clear night it can illuminate an entire landscape. Its beauty is borrowed from the sun.

So, it is with us. We shine not because we are flawless, but because God’s glory rests upon us. This is liberating. It means we do not have to manufacture spiritual brightness. We simply must turn our faces toward the One who shines.

When God’s People Shine, Others Are Drawn to the Light

Isaiah paints a breath-taking picture:

• Nations coming to the light

• Kings drawn to the brightness

• Sons returning

• Daughters carried home

• Wealth flowing in

• Caravans crossing deserts

• People singing the praise of the Lord

This is not a picture of domination. It is a picture of attraction. The world is drawn to a people who reflect God’s glory.

Story

There is a story told of a small village in the mountains of Italy. Every evening, just before sunset, the villagers would gather outside to watch the light fall on a particular house high on the hillside. The house itself was nothing special, simple stone, modest windows. But when the sun hit it at the right angle, it glowed like gold. People would stop their work just to watch it shine.

One day a visitor asked, “Why does everyone stare at that house?” A villager replied, “Because when the light touches it, it becomes something more than itself.”

That is Isaiah’s vision for God’s people. When God’s glory touches us, we become more than ourselves. And others notice.

The Gifts of the Nations: Gold, Incense, and Praise

Isaiah’s imagery of camels, gold, and incense echoes forward into the story of the Magi. It is as if Isaiah is whispering across centuries: “One day, the nations will come to the Light Himself.”

The gifts of Sheba: gold and incense are symbols of honour, worship, and recognition. They remind us that:

• God’s light is not just for Israel

• God’s glory is not confined to one people

• God’s salvation is expansive, magnetic, global

The Light that rises over Jerusalem is meant for the whole world.

What Does It Mean for Us Today?

Isaiah’s call is not only for ancient Jerusalem. It is for every community, every church, every believer who feels overshadowed by darkness.

Arise: even if you feel weary. Shine: even if you feel small. Your light has come even if you cannot yet see the full dawn.

To “arise” is to stand in hope. To “shine” is to live in a way that reflects God’s character: justice, mercy, compassion, courage. To “look around” is to notice the ways God is already gathering people, already restoring, already bringing home what was lost.

Ephesians 3:2–3, 5–6

“The mystery… now revealed… that the pagans share the same inheritance.”

There are passages in Scripture that feel like doorways, thresholds into a wider, more generous vision of God. Paul is trying to describe something so astonishing, so unexpected, that he can only call it a mystery; a mystery hidden for generations, now unveiled through the Spirit.

And what is this mystery?

That God’s grace is bigger than anyone imagined.

That the family of God is wider than anyone expected.

That those once considered “outsiders” are now fully included: heirs, members, sharers in the promise.

This is not a footnote in the gospel. It is the gospel.

Paul the Steward of Grace

Paul begins by saying he has been entrusted with grace, grace meant for others. This is a striking way to speak.

Grace is not something Paul owns. It is something he carries. Something he is responsible for. Something he must pass on. It’s like being handed a precious gift with the instruction: “This isn’t for you. Deliver it.”

Paul’s whole life becomes a delivery route for God’s generosity. And that is the first lesson for us: Grace is never meant to stop with us. It is meant to flow through us.

Think of a river. If it stops flowing, it becomes stagnant. But when it moves, it brings life wherever it goes. Paul is a river of grace. And we are invited to be the same.

The Mystery Revealed

Paul says the mystery was hidden in past generations. Not because God was playing games, but because humanity wasn’t ready to imagine a love so wide.

The mystery is this:

Gentiles, those once excluded are now:

• co-heirs,

• co-members,

• co-sharers in the promise of Christ.

Not second-class citizens. Not guests in someone else’s house. Not tolerated outsiders. They are full members of the household of God.

This is revolutionary. It overturns centuries of division, suspicion, and religious boundary lines.

It’s as if Paul is saying: “God’s family is bigger than you think. Make room. Set another place at the table.”

Story

There’s a story told about a small church in a rural village. For generations, the congregation had been made up of the same families. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew where they sat. Everyone knew how things were done.

One Sunday, a group of migrant workers, new to the area, unfamiliar with the customs walked into the church. They sat in the pews, prayed in their own accents, sang in their own rhythms. Some of the long-time members felt uncomfortable.“This is our church,” they whispered. “They don’t know how we do things.”

But the priest stood up and said something simple:

“If this is Christ’s table, then it is their table.

If this is Christ’s house, then it is their house.

If this is Christ’s body, then they belong to it as fully as we do.”

And slowly, the congregation realised: They weren’t losing something. They were gaining something. Their church wasn’t shrinking. It was expanding.

That moment is Ephesians 3 in miniature. The mystery revealed again.

The Gospel Breaks Down Walls

Paul’s message is not just theological; it is deeply practical. If God has made us one body, then we cannot live as though we are separate. If God has made us co-heirs, then we cannot hoard grace. If God has made us sharers in the promise, then we cannot deny that promise to others.

The gospel is not a private treasure. It is a public invitation. And the Spirit is always pushing the Church outward: toward the margins, toward the unexpected, toward those we might overlook.

What Does This Mean for Us Today?

Paul’s revelation invites us to ask:

• Who do we treat as outsiders?

• Who do we assume doesn’t belong?

• Who might God be bringing into our lives to expand our understanding of grace?

• Where is the Spirit inviting us to widen the circle?

The mystery revealed in Christ is not just a doctrine. It is a way of seeing the world. A way of seeing others. A way of seeing ourselves.

Matthew 2:1–12

“We saw his star as it rose and have come to do him homage.”

The story of the Magi is one of the most beloved scenes in the Gospel; not because of its exotic details, but because it reveals something essential about God: God draws all people to Himself, often by unexpected paths, and always through light.

Matthew 2 is a story of contrasts: light and darkness, seeking and resisting, humility and fear. It is a story of people who travel far to find Christ, and others who refuse to move even a few miles. It is a story of a star that guides, a child who welcomes, and a king who trembles. Let’s flesh out the epiphanic themes.

The Magi

The Magi come “from the east”: outsiders, foreigners, people with no scriptures, no covenant, no map. Yet they are the ones who recognise the sign. They are the ones who set out. They are the ones who ask the right question:

“Where is the infant king?”

The first lesson is simple and profound: God speaks to those who are willing to move.

The Magi do not have perfect knowledge, but they have open hearts. They do not know the whole story, but they follow the light they have.

There’s a story of a young sailor learning to navigate at night. His instructor told him, “You don’t need to see the whole ocean. You just need to trust the next star.” That is the Magi. And often, that is us.

God rarely gives us the full map. But He always gives enough light for the next step.

Herod

Herod hears the same news, but his reaction is the opposite. The Magi are filled with wonder. Herod is filled with fear. Why? Because Christ threatens the one thing Herod cannot surrender: control.

Herod represents the part of us that resists God’s work because it disrupts our plans, our power, our comfort. He knows the Scriptures; he even consults the priests and scribes. But he will not go to Bethlehem. He will not take the journey.

It is possible to know the truth and still refuse to move toward it.

The Magi travel hundreds of miles. Herod will not travel six.

The Scribes

The chief priests and scribes know exactly where the Messiah is to be born. They quote the prophet Micah with precision. But they do not go. They do not seek. They do not look.

This is a quiet warning: Faith is not just knowing the right answers. Faith is following the light when it appears. The Magi have less information but more desire. And desire moves them closer to Christ than knowledge alone ever could.

The Star

The star “went forward and halted over the place where the child was.” It is a beautiful image of God’s guidance: steady, patient, personal.

The Magi rejoice when they see the star again. They had lost sight of it in Jerusalem, because sometimes the noise of power, fear, and politics can obscure the light. But once they leave Herod’s world, the star reappears.

There is a lesson here: When we step away from fear and manipulation, God’s guidance becomes clearer.

The Gifts

The Magi bring gold, frankincense, and myrrh; gifts that speak of kingship, divinity, and sacrifice. But the deeper truth is this: They give their treasures because they have already given their hearts. Worship always begins with wonder. Generosity flows from adoration.

Story

There’s a story of a child who brought a simple, hand-drawn picture to place in the offertory basket. When asked why, she said, “It’s the only thing I made myself, so it’s the best thing I can give.” That is the spirit of the Magi.

God does not need our gold. He desires our willingness.

The Returned Journey

This final line is more than geography. It is transformation. No one encounters Christ and goes back the same way.

The Magi leave differently because they are different: their priorities, their loyalties, their understanding of kingship, their sense of direction. Meeting Christ always changes our path.

Conclusion

Isaiah 60 invites us to become people of the dawn: people who believe that God’s glory rises even when the world feels dark, people who reflect God’s light rather than hiding it, people who trust that God is drawing others toward His radiance.

The world does not need more brilliance from us. It needs more of God’s light shining through us.

Arise. Shine.

For your light has come.

And the glory of the Lord rises upon you.

Paul’s words remind us that the Church is not a club for the like-minded. It is a body made of difference. A family formed by grace. A community held together not by similarity, but by Christ.

The mystery revealed is this:

No one is beyond the reach of God’s promise.

No one is outside the circle of God’s love.

No one is excluded from the inheritance Christ offers.

So, let us live as people entrusted with grace.

Matthew 2 invites us to ask:

• Am I more like the Magi: willing to move, to seek, to follow the light I have?

• Or more like Herod: afraid of what God might change?

• Or like the scribes: knowledgeable, but unmoved?

The good news is that Christ welcomes all who come. He shines for those far away and those nearby. He guides those who seek Him, even imperfectly. He transforms those who kneel before Him. Today:

1. Follow the light you have.

2. Offer the gifts you carry.

3. Let Christ change your path.

4. And return home by a different way.