Epiphany: Searching for Stars

Throughout Christendom, today is the day we celebrate the arrival of the Wise Men (Magi, Kings) to Bethlehem.  It is the day when Christ was made manifest, or known, and it reminds us not only what happened long ago, but the fact that epiphanies happen all the time.

Epiphanies are moments when we arrive at a new place, see something, or someone, as if for the first time. They’re gifts more precious than frankincense, gold or myrrh, particularly when they lead us to know God in a new, real, personal way.

Whenever I think of the wise men, I think of the star they followed. I remember being jealous as a child that they were given a star. In many ways, I’m jealous, still. Wouldn’t it be great to have a clear sign, a light to lead us to God? I am sure there are many still leading us, but they’re hard to recognize. In my eagerness for a star, I’ve often followed the wrong ones.

I’m sure others thought the Wise Men were nuts. It’s ironic that we remember these sojourners who followed a star with such reverence, when the church so often looks down on the star gazers of today. Still, they had the faith to look up, the courage to walk, and, in the end, found what the most longed for.

Today is a day to ask whether we have the faith to look for stars, the courage to follow where they lead.  Most important, today is a day to remember who we long to find?

In a Year

Reaching up and taking the angel from the top of the tree, I wrap her in tissue paper before placing her in the box beside the other ornaments. As I close the box, I wonder what the world will be like the next time she sees it?

• Where will the box be opened?
• Will I be here to open it?
• Where will our children be? . . . Physically? . . . Emotionally? . . . Spiritually?
• What new Christmas cards will we be sending?
• Who will no longer be around to receive a card?
• What will my work be like?
• Will my bank account have more, or less, in it? What about my heart?
• What surprises will have come since last we met?
• What will the world be like? . . . Our nation? . . . Our city? . . . Our home?
• What kindness will I have brought into the world? What hurt or pain?
• How will my faith have grown? In what ways will it have been challenged?  Affirmed?
• What will her message of good news to all people mean in a year?

It’s only a year until the box is opened, the angel unwrapped and place on the top of another Christmas tree. How will I, how will we, make it a year worth telling her about?

Spinning Wheels

Whether in snow, mud, or sand, getting a car stuck is a frustrating and challenging endeavor. The first time it happened to me,  I was new to driving and was behind the wheel in my mother’s big station wagon, which could not handle the deep snow we recently received. When I put my foot down on the accelerator, I heard the engine rev and wheels spin. The car moved slightly, then didn’t move at all. I tried pushing down harder to force myself out, but that didn't work. Then, I took my foot off the pedal and tried to touch it only slightly, but it was an equally unsuccessful strategy. Eventually, I learned tires need traction. Putting something between the tires and snow gives them something on which to grip so the car can move.

It's a lesson I was reminded of recently when discussing the new year with friends. We shared our thoughts about the year coming to an end, and our hopes for the one about the begin. We also spoke of the places where we felt our tires were spinning. For one, it was his relationship with a particular child, but others spoke of careers, companies they worked for (or owned), and their marriages.

As we discussed such situations, I was reminded of my futile attempts to get unstuck in the snow. Like me long ago, some of my friends wanted to gun the engines and force things to change, others wanted to press lightly in hopes a gentle approach would bring about change. When someone quoted Einstein’s wisdom that insanity is doing the same thing expecting a different result, I thought of my tires spinning in the snow. Until I did something different, until I placed something between the tires and snow, they continued to spin. By doing something different, by creating traction, the car moved forward.

At this time of year, it’s particularly easy to see and hear our spinning tires. The temptation to force change by doing what we’ve always done with renewed gusto remains, but so does the option of looking for new ways to handle spinning tires. We can look for means of traction. Who knows, the cars of our lives might respond and move forward which, for so many, is our deepest New Year’s wish.