Behold the Lamb
The Second Sunday after the Epiphany | January 18, 2026
Opening Thought
Let’s be honest: we all hate to wait. Whether it is sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, standing in the grocery checkout line behind someone with a checkbook, or waiting for a show to return after a commercial break, patience is rarely our strong suit.
But there is something some of us hate even more than waiting: being interrupted. We hate being told to stop what we are doing to go do something we don't want to do, or being pushed entirely out of our comfort zones.
I often wonder: Does God do this on purpose? Does He allow these interruptions just to see our reactions? Does He poke at our disdain for the "new" just to see if we are paying attention?
It brings to mind the Psalmist’s words we hear today: "He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; many shall see, and stand in awe, and put their trust in the Lord."
"A new song." That sounds lovely, but it can be frightening. We like our old songs. We like our old routines. We like the way things were. When God introduces a "new song," our first reaction is often to plug our ears. We get stuck in the mud of our own lives—stuck in the "miry bog," as the Psalm calls it.
But here is the thing: when we finally give in—when we finally put down whatever we were clinging to and agree to "go and see"—we rarely regret it. In fact, looking back, we are usually glad we were interrupted. We are glad we were pulled out of the mud.
God is effectively saying to us: "Could you just have faith for a moment that I know what I'm doing? Is it possible that I might know better than you?" (Spoiler alert: He usually does!)
God sent his Son to wake up the world. He came to interrupt our status quo and to teach us a new song. So, the old ways are gone. The new has come. We might as well get used to it—and we might even find that this new song is the one we were meant to sing all along.
Engaging the Word
Our readings today bridge the gap between patient waiting and active following.
Isaiah (49:1-7) offers us the second of the famous "Servant Songs." It speaks to a deep truth about our spiritual vocation: it is always bigger than we think. The Lord tells the servant that it is "too light a thing" just to restore the tribes of Jacob. God has a bigger plan: "I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth." It is a reminder that our faith is never meant to be private; it is meant to shine outward.
Psalm 40 is the perfect counter-balance to the action of the Gospel. Before we can run, we often have to wait. "I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry." It describes the rescue from the "desolate pit" and the "miry bog," setting our feet on a rock. It is a song of gratitude from someone who knows that God’s timing is rarely our timing.
1 Corinthians (1:1-9) opens Paul’s letter to a troubled church. But notice how he starts—not with correction, but with identity. He calls them "those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints." Before he addresses their problems, he reminds them of their grace. "You are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ."
Finally, John (1:29-42) gives us the chain reaction of the Gospel. The Witness: John sees Jesus and identifies Him as the "Lamb of God"—a title loaded with sacrificial meaning. The Question: Jesus turns to the two disciples following him and asks the most profound question in scripture: "What are you looking for?" The Invitation: They ask where he is staying, and he replies, "Come and see." The Result: Andrew immediately goes to find his brother Simon Peter, telling him, "We have found the Messiah." The Gospel spreads not through a megaphone, but through one person telling another, "You have to meet this man."
A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides
Our music today bridges the gap between patient trust and active following, featuring the warmth of the French horn and the soaring lines of Mendelssohn.
Opening Voluntary: We begin with a special treat. "Rhosymedre" by Ralph Vaughan Williams, arranged by Colton Barber, will be performed with Christopher Hudson on horn. The tune name is Welsh for "Lovely," and it is one of Vaughan Williams' most beloved melodies. The warm, vocal quality of the horn is the perfect instrument to introduce this Sunday of "calling."
Entrance Hymn: We stand to sing "Christ, whose glory fills the skies" (#7). This text by Charles Wesley is quintessentially Epiphany. We ask the "Sun of Righteousness" to arise and triumph over the shades of night, echoing our reading from Isaiah about being a "light to the nations."
Sequence Hymn: Just before the Gospel, we sing "Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult" (#550). This hymn sets the stage for the Gospel reading where Jesus calls his first disciples. We sing of hearing his voice above the "restless sea" of our own lives, calling us to follow.
Offertory Anthem: We hear a special musical offering this Sunday: "I Waited for the Lord" by Felix Mendelssohn, performed by soloists Mickey Brooks and Susan Pavoni. This famous duet from the Lobgesang (Hymn of Praise) is a direct setting of today’s Psalm (Psalm 40: "I waited patiently for the Lord"). The weaving of the two soprano voices, supported by the organ, creates a sense of hopeful, patient trust, reminding us that before we can follow, we must often wait for God to incline his ear to us.
Communion Hymn: We sing the haunting American folk hymn "What wondrous love is this" (#439). While often sung in Lent, this hymn is chosen today to answer John the Baptist's declaration: "Behold the Lamb of God." When we see the Lamb, we are compelled to ask, "What wondrous love is this... that caused the Lord of bliss to bear the dreadful curse for my soul?" It grounds our Epiphany joy in the reality of the redemption Christ brings.
Post-Communion Hymn: We conclude our eucharist with "Ye servants of God, your Master proclaim" (#535). Having seen the Lamb and tasted his love, we are sent out like the disciples to proclaim him as King.
Closing Voluntary: We finish with the Prelude in G Major (BWV 550) by J.S. Bach. This piece is bright, dancing, and full of optimistic energy—a sonic representation of the joy of the disciples who have "found the Messiah."
A Closing Note on our Journey
I love that Andrew's first reaction to meeting Jesus was to go get his brother. He didn't sign up for a theology degree. He didn't wait until he was "holy enough." He just went to Simon and said, "We found him."
But let’s be honest about something. I love the church. I love Christ. I am a Christian.
Did reading that make you flinch? Did it send a slight chill down your spine? It does me!
Think about it: we often go through the motions of being good little churchgoers, minding our own business (for the most part), and then we turn on the TV or the radio and hear some loudmouth screaming about being a "Christian" and how much they love God. We all know what that is about. It may be true to them, but to us, it often sounds fake, performative, or for personal gain.
And then there is that other word: Evangelist.
Yikes! No one wants to hear that. There is no faster way to clear a room at an Episcopal coffee hour than to say, "Let's go do some evangelism!" We don't want to be bothered, we don't want to interrupt people, and we certainly don't want to be that guy on the street corner. I get it. We’re Episcopalians! We value our dignity and our privacy.
But guess what? It is okay to feel that hesitation. But we shouldn't let the loud voices steal the definition of the word.
Evangelism doesn't have to be a sales pitch. In John's Gospel, evangelism is just an introduction. It is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread. It can be a wonderful, life-changing thing to share the love of Christ with our neighbor because, ultimately, people aren't stupid. They can spot a fake a mile away. But they can also spot the genuine article.
They will see that we are genuine, loving, caring people who aren't here to judge. They will see that we are simply offering our vulnerable selves to the Christ who came to redeem the world and bring light to the nations.
This week, you don't have to convert anyone. You don't have to win an argument. You just have to be willing to say, "Come and see." Come and see where I find peace. Come and see where I find hope.
If we truly believe that we have found the "Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world," how can we keep that to ourselves?
A Prayer for the Week Ahead
Let us pray for the grace to follow where Christ calls.
For the patience to wait for the Lord when we are in the miry bog.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the courage to answer the question, "What are you looking for?"
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the willingness to invite others to "Come and see."
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the strength to be a light to the nations in our daily lives.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Collect for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany:
Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ is the light of the world: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ's glory, that he may be known, worshipped, and obeyed to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
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