Following the Light

1 Samuel 3:1-20, 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, John 1:43-51

Second Sunday after the Epiphany, January 15, 2006

Heritage Congregational Church, Madison, WI

Today, in true Epiphany fashion, we see the light of Christ in our lectionary readings. As Christians we are called to follow Jesus’ light. But before we can follow it we must find it, we must see it. Many people use the imagery of a light bulb turning on in their head or their spirit when they have an Epiphany moment. There is an ah-ha associated with that moment when the light comes on and what could not be seen for the darkness is now illuminated. When we see the light, we are able to follow because the path ahead is bright enough to see, bright enough to follow. This is Epiphany, the celebration of Christ’ light illuminating our path.

There was an old priest named Eli, who was having trouble seeing the light. His eyes were growing dim, so that he could not see, and although the lamp of God had not yet gone out in the Temple, Eli’s sight was impaired.

It was so impaired in fact, that often Eli could not see God standing right in front of him, and the old priest made several grave errors. When Hanna came before him, he did not recognize her anguish as an impassioned prayer to God, and when his own children turned against God, Eli was unable to see the light strongly enough to point them toward it. And again, on this night, a night when the lamp was still burning, however dimly, Eli did not see God when the boy came to him. In fact, it took three tries before the old priest heard the familiar voice of the one he used to see so clearly. But finally he did. God pushed Eli until he could see and hear. God made sure Eli’s faith could see at least one last time, that the illuminating light might be followed and Samuel might embark upon the divine path set before him.

The men had been following the Baptist, who told them of the coming of the Lamb of God. Twice they had seen the man eluded to by the prophet, but as yet they had not been able to see his messiah-light. Two from the same town had followed when He called the day before, somehow they were able to see His brightness. They found their path by following Him.

But it was now the next day. Phillip followed easily, seeing the light. But Nathanael was skeptical. Nazareth was but a bleep on the map—a place of no particular fame, good or bad. Could anything good come from this inconsequential place?

Then the Lamb spoke, and the light began to glow for Nathanael. He was known, inside and out. Somewhere inside of Nathanael the Lamb had seen his character, his faith, his honesty. And in being known, Nathanael came to know the light and was able to follow.

Tony, the young boy, had been taken to see Father Joe, and he was afraid. He had behaved badly and hurt others. And now he had to pay the unknown price. Would it be like the confession of the church he knew? Would he be punished physically or just assigned his penance? Tony was in the darkness and had not a clue as to a means of escape when he met Father Joe in the small room.

A quote from Father Joe, a book by Tony Hendra:

I sat down. Without looking at me he took my hand in his—big, surprisingly soft—and held it on the arm of the chair. His long mobile lips pursed and unpursed several times; he blinked rapidly until finally his eyes closed. Evidently it was his way of concentrating his energies. His hand relaxed slightly over mine and I began to feel its warmth. The intimacy took me aback, but I was drawn in by something stronger. There was a stillness in the room, the same stillness I’d noticed earlier when we’d arrived, this time without any apprehension. A calm suffused me, a physical sensation running though my body like a hot drink on a cold night. For the first time in a week, all my fears melted away.

Tony came to the light as his fears melted, and that moment of illumination began his life-long journey into faith and truth and light.

The two women had seen much of God’s beauty as they drove through the wine country of northern California. The grass was newly green from the rain and row upon row of vines seed to flow naturally with the rolling contour of the hills and valleys. The roads were windy and around each new turn a scene of beauty was revealed.

On the last day of the trip, the one who had reached her fiftieth birthday five weeks before her friend said, We’re so close. Let’s go to the ocean. And so they did. They drove up and down and over, through the fog and into the mountains toward Bodega Bay. The Pacific was getting closer and every once in a while it could peet out amid the winding roadway.

The two friends drove through Bodega Bay, sure there was more to see, anxious for the wonder God’s ocean brings. They drove past the restaurants and shops when suddenly they were atop a cliff-like road, and there it was. They parked the car, paused a moment to take it all in, and then as if they could not wait one moment more, they hurriedly descended the steps to the beach. The sand, the smell, the texture—all together it made the most beautiful sight they had seen thus far on their journey of God’s beauty. They walked and walked, feeling God’s presence.

And there was, of course, the light. The fog had cleared and the light was so bright that where it ended and the ocean began was indistinguishable. God’s ocean and God’s light were one, creating a beauty so inviting, one could not help but follow it.

What is the light of Christ to each of us? To one it is God’s voice, to another it is being known, to yet another feeling safe, and to still others it is partaking in the beauty of God’s creation. Something happens to us when we witness Christ’ light, whether we feel it, see it or hear it. It changes us.

The light of Christ illumines our path so we know our way. It opens our ears that we may hear the call of the Spirit. It makes us feel safe—at home—that we are able to put aside our fears and live the life God has placed before us. It helps us to know that we are known by the one who made us.

In Paul’s first letter to the Church in Corinth we read that when we are united with the Lord, we are one with the Spirit. Our spirit connects to God’s Spirit. It is like that indistinguishable place where the light and the ocean meet. This is what happens when we see the light of Christ, when we live in Epiphany.

The result of this connection, of this living in the light, is that we love God and one another enough to do what is best for everyone. We take great care and respect with the paths of all God’s children. We acknowledge the work of Christ’s light and the path that is illumined for each one of us.

This is being a church—working together for the common good, doing not what is merely lawful, checking off the rules as we go; but instead we look at the intent of the law and do what is truly beneficial for all of God’s children. When we are united with God through the light of Christ, we share in God’s Spirit—wanting what God wants—working with God in all things, whatever that means for each of us as we participate in the life of the church. We live in Christ’s light, following the path our God has placed before us. Amen.