Ephesians 3:1-12
If I start the sentence, “How do you know…” and I invite you to finish it, what comes to mind?
How do you know if someone loves you? How do you know if this is the one you should marry? How do you know if this is the right job for you? How do you know when it is time to make a change? How do you know?
These are the kinds of questions that fill our imaginations. I don’t often wonder “how do you know if the milk has gone bad?” Because, you know. Things like that are simple and empirical. The “how do you know” questions that hold your attention are different. We know how to solve an arithmetic problem by learning the steps and practicing. We know if we have the right answer because there is a right answer and it’s the same for everyone. Two plus two always equals four, so you know.
But there are many questions in life that cannot be answered that way. And these are by and large the kinds of questions grappled with in the scriptures.
How does the prophet Isaiah know that now is the time to arise, to shine? How does he know that the light has come?
How did Elizabeth, the wife of Zechariah, know that her young cousin Mary was the mother of her Lord?
How do the shepherds in the fields know that the child who has been born was the Messiah?
How did the magi know that the star they were following would lead them to the newborn king?
How did the apostle Paul know that he was called by Christ to serve the mission to the Gentiles? How did he know, when he was knocked to the ground by a flash of heavenly light, when he heard the voice speaking to him, when he lost the ability to see, how did he know that his life was irrevocably changed?
Some would say that the way you know is that suddenly there is no other choice. Isaiah could see nothing but the light of God’s glory, could do no other than to proclaim this message of hope.
The shepherds in the fields knew that they simply could not remain where they were. They could do no other than to follow the command of the heavenly host.
The magi knew the power of their dreams to speak truth to them in a way that no human voice could speak. They knew that they could do no other than to follow the star that led them across miles and miles.
Some would say that you know something is right and true when you can do no other than to pursue it. That does not make it easy, though. It certainly was not easy for the magi. It was not easy for Mary or Elizabeth or Joseph to trust the message they had been given from an angel, from a dream, from a vision.
It was not easy for the priest Zechariah, when the angel Gabriel visited him. He asked the question, “How will I know,” not in a wondering way, but in a challenging way, a doubtful way. Which was a foolish thing to do, when the angel took away his power of speech, so he could ponder these things in silence.
Some would say it is a mystery, how you know. Indeed, it is a mystery. You can’t know the steps to follow, you can’t know the source of the revelation, not in any way that we want to know things. All revelation comes from God and, of course, there are real limits on what we can know of God.
There is mystery, Paul uses this word several times in the letter to Ephesians – four times it appears just in this passage.
There is mystery in the passage from Isaiah, although he doesn’t use the word, but all that he describes conveys a sense of awe, of holy mystery.
How do we know these things? We know by the experience. We know by what our senses know: a star, a dream, a blinding light. A voice that speaks to us and maybe to no one else. A sense of shimmering joy, elation. A sense of peace, the kind that passes understanding. A sense being drawn in. One of the tenets of our Reformed faith is that God’s grace is irresistible – simply irresistible! You know by the flame that ignites within you and smolders, and glows. You know by what you know.
And yet –
The knowing is open to more. The knowing of epiphany must be very wary of putting down a period. Is God finished speaking? Has revelation ended? Is it possible for us, mere humans, to put a limit on God’s divine wisdom, on the extent of God’s love?
There are very few things I know for sure, but I see that throughout the scriptures, when there is more light given, there is more love. When Isaiah says, “Arise, shine, for your light has come,” we know that the dark days of exile are past, and that God’s grace will shine on Israel.
When the shepherds and the magi see the brilliant light in the sky, we know that God has opened the door and reached out to draw these outsiders inside. When Paul was blinded by the light on the Damascus Road, he knew that this was a turning point in his life, which would from now on be devoted to carrying the good news of God’s grace far and wide.
Paul did not know, at first, where he would be sent. He did not realize that the calling, the commission placed on him, would take him to the outsiders, the whole Gentile world. But soon he did know.
The knowing of epiphany is a strange thing. It can be wild, unexpected. It is ever-expanding divine love.
This light, this love, was there for the people in the time of Isaiah. It was there for the people in the time of Christ’s birth. and the light shines on.
This light, this ever-expanding love is here for us. The light that darkness cannot comprehend or overcome, as we read in the Gospel of John. The light has not left the world. It never will.
It is a mystery that draws us in.
More light is yet to be seen. Keep watching, keep listening, for God is not yet finished.
