In modern English, we use the word epiphany to connote a sudden revelation. This week, light has arrived in both the texts and liturgical seasons, illuminating that which was previously “dark” to us. During Advent, we awaited the sacred mystery of a baby, born to a virgin mother, who became the Son of God. At Epiphany, we gain full exposure to this prophecy: darkness had covered the earth—but the light has overcome it.

When my mother was a young girl, Isaiah 60:1-6 was among the first scriptures she memorized. It was her guidepost in times when she encountered darkness too dim to bear. “Arise, shine; for your light has come,” was a beacon to which she could lift her eyes and be comforted in any scary scenario.

How does it feel to know that even amid darkness God’s glory appears before us in Advent hope and Epiphany light? We only need “lift up” our eyes and look in order to “see and be radiant." But so often, we keep our heads down—enthralled with that which we think will make our heart “thrill and rejoice.” We embrace the mundane and reject the very epiphany “treasure” that God offers because we are too preoccupied with temporary things that we believe will dispel darkness. Instead, we are invited to arise, shine, and look to the infinite Light.

When we feel dark and formless, chaotic and listless, Isaiah’s prophetic voice reminds us to look up and consider the indestructible link to our Creator who has the power to create out of nothing and to incarnate as Messiah born in a stable.