The question is not, “What are we doing here?” but, “What is He doing here?” Epiphany 1 2026
11. January 2026
Epiphany 1
Isaiah 42:1–9; Romans 12:1–6a; Luke 2:42–52
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.
What are we doing here? Not in theory. Not on paper. Not in the Constitution. Right now, this morning—what exactly is going on?
If you ask most people, even in a decent Lutheran parish, you’ll hear some version of: “We’re here to worship God,” which usually means, “We’re here to show God we love Him, prove we’re serious, and give Him our time and attention so He’ll be pleased with us.” That sounds pious. It is also wrong.
Today, on this First Sunday after Epiphany, the Lord puts a twelve-year-old boy in front of us to straighten us out. Mary and Joseph lose Jesus, panic, and then find Him in the temple. And when they scold Him, He says, “Did you not know that I must be in My Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49). Or you can translate it, “about My Father’s business.”
The question is not, “What are we doing here?” The first question is, “What is He doing here?” Because if this is only about what you are doing for God—your piety, your sincerity, your singing, your attention span—then this will always collapse either into pride or despair. Either you think you’re doing well and look down on others, or you know you’re not and you quietly give up.
But Jesus says, “I must be in My Father’s house.” (Luke 2:49). He has business to do. And He has not stopped.
Isaiah saw this long before Mary did. The Lord says, “Behold My Servant, whom I uphold, My chosen, in whom My soul delights; I have put My Spirit upon Him; He will bring forth justice to the nations.” (Isaiah 42:1). This Servant is not you. It is not the pastor. It is not the Church. It is Christ. Isaiah goes on: “I will give You as a covenant for the people, a light for the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon.” (Isaiah 42:6-7).
So what is the Father’s “business”? To send His Servant, His Son, filled with the Spirit, to bring justice, to be a covenant, to open blind eyes, and to free prisoners. That is not a vague “mission statement.” That is concrete: forgiveness for the guilty, light for darkened consciences, and release for people chained to their sins and fears.
And where does the Servant do this work today? Here. In the Divine Service. Not in some mystical space in your heart or in your best intentions, but through His actual means: His Word preached, His absolution spoken, His body and blood given into your mouth.
When you walk into this sanctuary on Sunday morning, you are not coming to show God your spiritual résumé. You are walking into the workshop where the Servant is about His Father’s business—on you. Look at how the Divine Service actually runs.
We begin in the Name: “In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). That’s not a religious slogan. That is Christ Himself calling you by the Name given to you in Baptism. He says, “You belong to My Father; you are not your own.”
Immediately, we confess: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” (1 John 1:8). We stop pretending. We admit what the Law has already exposed during the week: idolatry, laziness, filth, anger, and self-righteousness. We admit that by nature we are the blind and the prisoners Isaiah talked about.
And what happens? We do not climb our way up to God with promises and emotional effort. Instead, you hear: “In the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins…” (John 20:23). The Servant speaks through a human mouth and does what He came to do: bring forth justice, not by smashing you, but by putting your sin on Himself.
From the very beginning of the service, the main actor is not you. It is Christ. You are being acted upon.
Then the readings. Christ speaks. He speaks from the Old Testament, from the Epistles, and from the Holy Gospel. “My sheep hear My voice” (John 10:27). The sermon is not “the pastor’s thoughts.” It is Christ applying His Word to this congregation at this time.
And then, when the sermon is done and we have confessed the Creed, He does something even more concrete: “Take, eat; this is My body… Drink of it, all of you; this cup is the new testament in My blood…” (Matthew 26:26–28). The Servant who once sat in the temple as a twelve-year-old now serves you at His table as the crucified and risen Lord. He feeds you the same body that hung on the cross and the same blood that was poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.
And finally, He sends you: “The Lord bless you and keep you…” (Numbers 6:24–26). That benediction is not wishful thinking. It is the Name of God marked on you as you go out, so that you bear Him into your home, your work, and the mess of Monday. From start to finish, the Divine Service is Christ’s business.
We heard Paul say in Romans 12, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” (Romans 12:1).
Notice the order. It is “by the mercies of God.” Not by the quality of your worship, the strength of your feelings, or how “into it” you were today. God acts first. He pours out His mercies—His forgiveness, His Word, His Supper—on bodies that are tired, sinful, distracted, and sometimes bored. Then, having been forgiven and fed, you present those same bodies back to Him as a living sacrifice.
That means your spiritual worship is not limited to this hour. It is your body tomorrow morning, getting up to serve your spouse, your children, and your neighbor, not for glory but because Christ has claimed you as His own. “We, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.” (Romans 12:5). The Divine Service shapes an entire life of service.
But again, the starting point is not your effort. It is His mercy. This is why our first instinct about worship is so dangerous. If you deep down believe that worship is mainly about what you do for God, the Divine Service will become one of two things:
A performance to manage. “Did I get something out of it? Did I like the hymns? Did the sermon hold my attention? Did I feel uplifted?” You become the judge, God becomes the audience, and the whole thing exists to entertain or inspire you.
A chore to endure. “I put in my time. I showed up. God should be happy.” Then you wonder why it feels empty.
In both cases, the focus is on you. You—your feelings, your taste, your effort—are the center. That is idolatry dressed in church clothes. The Scriptures will not let us keep that illusion.
When Mary and Joseph find Jesus after three days, she says, “Son, why have You treated us so?” (Luke 2:48). You can hear a hint of accusation. “We were anxious. You scared us. How could You?” Jesus does not apologize. He answers, “Did you not know that I must be in My Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49).
You could almost hear Him say to us, “Did you not know that when you gather in My Name, I have work to do? This is not about you managing Me. This is about Me saving you.”
So let’s be blunt. If you treat the Divine Service as optional, as something you attend when it fits your schedule or your mood, you are not merely missing an event. You are walking away from the very place where the Servant does His work on you.
If you show up but refuse to listen, picking and choosing what you will hear—“I like the Gospel, but not so much the Law; I want comfort, not repentance”—you are not merely “having preferences.” You are telling the Servant how to do His job.
If you insist that the church must be exciting, relevant, or emotionally satisfying on your terms, or else you will withhold your presence, money, or support—you are not worshiping God. You are demanding that God worship you. That needs repentance. But Jesus is here for exactly that.
The same boy who stayed in His Father’s house when His parents did not understand is the same Lord who went to the cross when you did not want Him. He did not say, “Did you not know I had better things to do than suffer for you?” He set His face toward Jerusalem, was betrayed, beaten, crucified, and buried—for every half-hearted service you have ever attended, for every bored yawn in the pew, and for every arrogant critique of His gifts.
On the third day, He rose. And now, in mercy, He keeps showing up in His Father’s house, in places like this, in congregations as flawed as ours, to be about His Father’s business: forgiving, cleansing, teaching, feeding, and sending.
So what does renewal look like for us? It does not begin with a new program. It begins with a different answer to the question, “What are we doing here?” We are here because Christ has called us. We are here because the Servant is on duty. We are here because the Father delights in giving us His Spirit through His Son.
Practically, that means:
We show up, not as consumers evaluating a product, but as sinners coming to be forgiven.
We listen, really listen, to the readings and the sermon, because we believe Jesus when He says, “The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” (John 6:63).
We come to the Lord’s Supper expecting that we will walk away different—absolved, strengthened, joined more tightly to Christ and to each other.
And then we go home and into the week as people whose bodies belong to God, ready to live as living sacrifices, not to earn His favor, but because we already have it.
You may not feel very different. You may not always “get something out of” the service in the way you expect. But the point is not your feelings. The point is His faithfulness. The Servant does not fail. “He will not grow faint or be discouraged till He has established justice in the earth.” (Isaiah 42:4). That includes here. That includes you.
So when you lose track of Jesus in your week—and you will—come back to where He has promised to be: in His Father’s house, about His Father’s business, for you.
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
