Second Sunday after the Epiphany

Looking for beloved relationship 
Rev. Jennifer Masada - St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church - Kapa’au, Hawai'i
January 18 - Second Sunday after the Epiphany - Year A
Isaiah 49:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42; Psalm 40:1-12​

Ever-present Creator, open our hearts to be in relationship with you. Open our ears to hear you ask, “What are you looking for?” Help us as we ponder this loving question. As we seek you, help us find your love in our own hearts, that we might build the beloved community here on earth. Amen.

Last week, we stood at the waters of baptism.

We listened for a voice that names Jesus—and names us—as beloved. We learned that we are unconditionally beloved. What an incredible revelation! There’s nothing we have to do to earn this; there’s nothing we need to prove. No documents, status, or achievements are necessary. We are God’s beloved simply because we are. 

Think about this with me: in God’s realm, we are always beloved just as we are. 
This truth is not something we rush past. It is something we are invited to linger with—to let settle into our bodies, into our breath, into the hidden places where fear and striving often live. God’s call is about our experience of that love!

This week’s Gospel reading from John invites us to step more deeply into our experience of God’s love by getting to know Jesus. We have heard the stories about how the first disciples are called in the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, where Jesus calls them to follow. Jesus says, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men. And they drop their fishing nets to go. 

In today’s reading, there is no dramatic moment of instant clarity, not yet. This story describes what happened during an earlier meeting at which John the Baptist introduces his cousin, proclaiming him “the Lamb of God.” People would have understood his reference: in Jewish tradition, the Passover lamb was a sacrifice of innocence and purity to protect the people. 

Out of curiosity, the disciples ask Jesus where he is staying. Surely someone this important would be an honored guest of the elite! But Jesus does not need to prove his status. Nor does he give them directions or instructions. He does not outline expectations or make demands. He simply says, “Come and see.” 

It is a gentle invitation—one that honors how human relationships actually grow, gradually unfolding through questions, conversations, and shared time.
In the Gospel of John, faith and discipleship do not begin with certainty or commitment. They begin with curiosity. With a willingness to show up. With openness to encounter. With a willingness to allow relationships to form. 

What especially stays with me in this passage is the first question Jesus asks: “What are you looking for?”

He could have asked "What do you believe?" He could have asked "What are you prepared to sacrifice?" But instead, he asks a question that goes deeper—one that speaks to longing, to desire, to the quiet ache beneath the surface. What are you seeking?

Each of us answers that question differently, depending on where we are in life.
Some of us are looking for meaning. Some are looking for healing. Some are longing for reassurance that love is still possible in a world that feels divided and uncertain. And some are simply searching for comfort—especially in times of suffering, when it is hard to feel God’s presence, or to believe we are still beloved.

I’ve been holding that question this week through the story of a friend who is living with deep uncertainty. She has been forced to live apart from her husband, who is overseas in a country affected by government travel restrictions. The separation is painful. There is no clear path toward resolution. The strain touches every part of daily life for my friend and their small children.

And yet, during a recent conversation, she said something that surprised me. She said, “I don’t want to dwell on how hard this is. Tell me the positives.”

She is not denying the pain. She is not pretending this is easy. But she is choosing not to let suffering narrow her vision. She is trusting that a wider story is still unfolding—even though she cannot yet see how it will come together.

To me, that feels like a living example of what Jesus means when he says, “Come and see.” Not come and understand everything. Not come and fix it. But come and stay open. Come and trust that love is still at work here.

This is what Epiphany invites us into. Epiphany is the season of widening light—of discovering that God’s presence is larger, closer, and more generous than we imagined. Jesus’ invitation to “come and see” is not a test of faith. It is not a demand. It is an opening—into relationship, into deeper awareness, into a love that does not rush us but patiently meets us where we are.

Only after spending time with Jesus do the disciples begin to understand what it might mean to follow. Only after relationship comes clarity. Only after belovedness takes root does action begin to make sense. 

And the same is true for us. We are not called to act in haste. We are not called to live from fear or scarcity. We are called to live from the deep knowing that we are already held in love.

When belovedness takes root, compassion naturally widens. Our view expands. Our hearts soften. Our capacity to love grows.

So once again, Jesus’ question comes to us gently: What are you looking for?
And perhaps, if we are willing to stay with that question—without rushing to answer—we may find ourselves hearing the invitation that follows: Come and see.

Amen.