"Come to Christ where He has promised to be found" Epiphany 2026

07. January 2026
Epiphany (observed)
Matthew 2:1-12

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

“In the days of Herod the king.” That’s not a sentimental detail. It’s a warning label. Herod is not a Hallmark villain. He’s what the world looks like when it feels threatened: paranoid, violent, self-protective, religious when convenient, and willing to spill blood to keep control. And that’s the setting God chooses for Epiphany—His “showing forth,” His unveiling.

Because Epiphany is not just about a star. Epiphany is about who this Child is, and how God brings people to Him: Jews and Gentiles, insiders and outsiders, church people and strangers from far away.

Matthew says, “Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying, ‘Where is He who has been born King of the Jews?’” (Matthew 2:1-2). Notice the scandal: the first people in this Gospel to ask for the King publicly are not priests. Not scribes. Not the respectable locals. They’re Gentiles. Outsiders. Pagans. Men whose job description probably included reading the heavens and advising kings. And God calls them anyway.

That’s Epiphany. The Light does not stay tucked safely inside “our” boundaries. Christ does not belong to one ethnicity, one nation, one social class, one personality type, one set of respectable sinners. He is the King, and He will have the nations.

So God gives them a sign that actually reaches them: a star. He meets them where they are. He uses creation to catch their attention. But—and this matters—God does not save them by astronomy. He does not convert them by feelings, intuition, “spirituality,” or their own cleverness. The star gets them moving; the Word gets them to Christ.

So, where does the star lead them first? Not to Bethlehem. To Jerusalem. To Scripture. To preaching—even if it comes out of compromised mouths. Herod hears, and Matthew says he’s troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. That’s also Epiphany: the presence of the true King does not only produce warm feelings. It exposes hearts. It provokes fear in those clinging to their own thrones.

Herod gathers the chief priests and scribes and asks where the Christ is to be born. And they answer correctly. They quote the prophet: “And you, Bethlehem… out of you shall come a Ruler who will shepherd My people Israel.” (Micah 5:2; cf. Matthew 2:5-6). They know the text. They can teach the Bible class. They can point the Gentiles in the right direction. And then—apparently—they do not go.

Let that sink in. The Gentiles travel for days, maybe weeks, at high cost, with danger and inconvenience, because they want to worship. The Jerusalem experts can walk there in a couple of hours—and they stay home. That is not an ancient problem. It’s a modern one.

There’s a kind of “church knowledge” that is real knowledge and still deadly: being able to speak orthodox words while your heart remains uninterested in actually coming to Christ. You can be correct and cold. You can be informed and indifferent. You can “know your stuff” and still not worship. Epiphany exposes that, too.

Now Herod plays his game. He summons the wise men secretly. He asks when the star appeared. He sends them to Bethlehem with a fake pious line: “Go search diligently… and when you find Him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship.” (Matthew 2:8). That sentence is pure hypocrisy. Herod doesn’t want to worship. He wants to eliminate a rival.

And here’s the sickening truth: he is willing to use Scripture as a tool in his plan. He has the Bible quoted to him, and instead of repenting, he weaponizes the information. That’s what the old Adam does. Even religion becomes ammunition. Even holy words become props. Herod is not “out there” in some distant palace. He’s a mirror held up to every sinner who would rather keep control than kneel.

But God will not be outmaneuvered. The wise men leave Jerusalem, and the star appears again. And when it does, Matthew says they rejoice exceedingly with great joy. (Matthew 2:10). Why? Because they are being led. God is not playing games with them. He is not teasing them. He is bringing them to His Christ.

And then the scene that defines Epiphany: “And going into the house they saw the Child with Mary His mother, and they fell down and worshiped Him.” (Matthew 2:11). It’s almost offensively simple. No palace. No guard. No political platform. No spectacle. A Child. A poor family. A house in little Bethlehem. And yet: the true King.

This is the kind of King God gives: not the kind who flatters our desire for worldly glory, but the kind who saves sinners. Not the kind who crushes enemies with armies, but the kind who crushes the serpent by being crushed on the cross. Not the kind who demands your performance, but the kind who gives you mercy. That’s why Herod hates Him. This Child threatens every false throne—Herod’s, and yours.

The wise men open their treasures: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These gifts are not magic. They are confessing. They are worship put into material form. Gold says: You are King. Frankincense says: You are worthy of prayer and praise. Myrrh says: You are the One who will die. You are not a pretend Savior. You will bear our flesh all the way into suffering and death.

And that’s the point: Epiphany is not mainly about how sincere the wise men were. It’s about who the Child is—so worthy that even the nations come and kneel. And then God gives the final turn: “And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.” (Matthew 2:12). That’s not just a travel detail. That’s what happens when you meet Christ. You do not go back the same way.

If you’ve come to Jesus for some manageable religious uplift, Epiphany will ruin that. Because the real Jesus does not exist to be an accessory to your life. He is King. He takes over. He reorders your loves. He exposes your fear. He breaks your pride. He gives you Himself. And He does it by His Word.

The star is a mercy. The Scriptures in Jerusalem are a mercy. But the center of it all is this: God leads people to Christ through the preached Word—through promise, through Gospel, through the proclamation that the Child born in Bethlehem is the Savior for sinners, the Shepherd-Ruler who forgives, rescues, and raises the dead.

So here’s the blunt question Epiphany puts to you: which city are you living in? Jerusalem can quote Micah and still refuse to move. Herod can use the Bible and still hate the Christ it proclaims. But the wise men—pagans, outsiders, men with mixed-up assumptions and imperfect understanding—come, because God draws them, and they worship. So don’t romanticize them. Imitate the one thing they got exactly right: they fell down before Jesus.

That’s what this feast calls you to: not vague spirituality, not “being inspired,” not chasing signs, not treating the faith like trivia. Come to Christ where He has promised to be found: in His Word, in His gifts, in His Church.

And yes—bring your gifts. Not because God is needy, but because worship always has hands and feet. Bring the gold of your possessions: give generously, not as a guilt payment, but as a confession that Christ is King over your wallet, too. Bring the incense of prayer: stop pretending you can run your life without Him. Bring the myrrh of repentance: let your sin be named, confessed, absolved—killed—so that you live.

And then go home “by another way.” Leave this place as someone who has seen the King—not with your eyes, but by faith. Leave as one who has bowed. Leave as one who has been gathered into the nations He is claiming. Because Epiphany is the declaration that the Light has come for the whole world. Not just for the neat and the near. For the far. For the pagan. For the compromised. For the terrified. For the indifferent. For you.

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you… and nations shall come to your light.” (Isaiah 60:1–3)

They came. They worshiped. And Christ received them. So come. Worship. And trust this: the King you kneel before is not here to take from you, but to give—Himself—for your salvation. Amen.

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin