Greeneville, TN
The Second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 18, 2026
Last week, we heard the story of Jesus' baptism from Matthew's Gospel. Today, we hear that story again, but told differently, through John's eyes. And I think that difference matters. John's Gospel doesn't linger on the water or the ritual. Instead, it focuses on testimony. Over and over again, John the Baptizer tells us who Jesus is. He points. He names. He bears witness.
And in doing so, he helps us on our Epiphany journey; this season when the light of Christ is revealed, again and again, in a world that so often feels shadowed. John says, "Look. There he is! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." He says, "This is the one I've been telling you about. He is the anointed one of God. He is the Christ."
And then John tells us why he is so sure. He says, "When I baptized him, I saw the Spirit descend like a dove, and I heard God's voice saying, 'This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased.'"
In our world flooded with voices, opinions, outrage, fear, and misinformation, John's clarity is a gift to us. He reminds us that faith begins with pointing and naming, with eye witness testimony, and with light shining in the darkness.
We know that baptism is the beginning of life in that light. We are baptized because something deep within us begins to respond to God's call. And that word, call, is the thread that ties all of today's readings together.
What strikes me about John's version of this story is how different it is from the others. In Matthew and Luke, Jesus walks along the shoreline calling fishermen away from their nets. But in John's Gospel, Jesus doesn't call Simon directly. He calls Andrew. Andrew hears John the Baptizer testify about Jesus, and something within him stirs. He follows Jesus.
And then Andrew does one of the most important things in all of Scripture. He goes and gets his brother. Andrew brings Simon to Jesus and says, "We have found the Messiah."
And then comes one of my favorite moments in the Gospel. Jesus looks at Simon, whom he has just met, and gives him a new name. Cephas. Peter. The Rock. I love nicknames. Nicknames are signs of intimate relationships. They say, I see you. I know something true about you, even if you don't yet.
Jesus sees in Peter a steadiness, a grounding, a future Peter himself does not yet understand. Jesus says, "This is the one upon whom Christ will build my ekklesia, my community, my church.
Andrew and Simon are called. But notice how that call unfolds... quietly, relationally, and personally. No spectacle. No pressure. Just an invitation. The writer Parker Palmer says that our true vocation, our true calling, is something we "can't not do." It's something that is woven into the fabric of our lives. It's that deep yearning that keeps coming back, even when we try to ignore it or run away from it.
Isaiah names it beautifully... "The Lord called me before I was born… before I was knit together in my mother's womb, you knew me." Paul names it too—called to be an apostle, writing to an ekklesia, a church, called to be saints, even while they struggled to live into that calling. Calling doesn't mean perfection. It means belonging.
In today's Gospel, Jesus turns to those first seekers and asks a simple, searching question, "What are you looking for?" It's a question the church has asked ever since. It is still the first question asked of those preparing for baptism in the context of the Catechumanate, "What do you seek?" they are asked... And the ancient response is just as simple, "Life in Christ."
Andrew and his brother don't yet know how to say that. Instead, they ask, "Where are you staying? Where do you live? Where are you rooted? Where do you abide? Where is your life found?" And Jesus answers with three of the most gracious words in Scripture, "Come and see."
No test. No prerequisites. No purity checklist. No demand for certainty. Just "Come and see."
That matters, especially now. We live in a time when many people are exhausted. We are worn out by conflict, by violence, by political division, by anxiety about the future. Many are wary of institutions, including the church. Many are searching for meaning and don't trust easy answers.
But Jesus does not offer easy answers. He offers a life. The Gospel is not a concept to be memorized; it is a life to be lived. Faith is not something to argue people into; it is something we invite them to experience. That invitation, "come and see," is at the heart of evangelism.
And yes, I know that word can make Episcopalians nervous. It has been misused, distorted, and even weaponized. But at its core, evangelism is the heart of Jesus' message. It's simply sharing good news. It is inviting others to share in the life that is found in Christ Jesus.
In this season of Epiphany, we are reminded that Christ's light does not stay contained. It spreads. It reflects. It moves through ordinary people... Through fishermen. Through those who quietly say, "Come and see."
On some level, each of us is still being invited by Christ to go deeper. By virtue of our baptism, each of us is also invited to extend that same gentle invitation to others. We never know what God may be setting in motion through a simple act of invitation and welcome.
What if Andrew had not followed? What if he had not gone back for his brother? How would Simon have found his way and received his new name? We don't know what God will do with our faithfulness. We only know that God uses it in his mission of restoration.
So today, in a world hungry for hope, Jesus still asks us, "What are you looking for?" And Jesus still invites us to "Come and see." Come out of the darkness into the light... Come into community... Come into a life shaped by grace, mercy, and love. You may not find all the answers. But you just might find the life you are seeking.
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