Chase The Kangaroo

The Horizon Comes Into Focus

Christmas tells us that God has come near.

Epiphany asks a quieter, sharper question:

Who noticed?

The world did not stop when the child was born. Power did not pause. Kings did not kneel. Most people carried on, unaware that history had bent beneath their feet.

But a few were watching.

The Magi stand at the foreground of Epiphany not because they arrived first, but because they saw first.

They were not insiders.
They were not waiting for a Messiah.
They were not fluent in the language of prophecy.
They were readers of the sky. Students of patterns. Attentive to signs others dismissed as background noise.
They noticed something change on the horizon.

Epiphany is not about brilliance overhead.
It is about direction ahead.

A star does not force understanding. It invites movement. It does not explain itself. It draws those willing to leave what is familiar and travel toward what is only partially known.

The Magi did not possess certainty.
They possessed alignment.
They followed what they could see, even when it led them beyond their maps, beyond their status, beyond the safety of what they already understood.

That is revelation.
The horizon matters because it is where clarity is delayed.

You never see everything at once. You see enough to move. Enough to reorient. Enough to know that staying put is no longer faithful.

Epiphany is the moment when presence becomes perceptible, when dwelling sharpens into discernment.

God has been here all along.
Now He is recognized.
This is why Epiphany belongs at the end of Christmas, not the beginning.

Christmas gives us nearness.
Epiphany gives us meaning.

It tells us that the Incarnation was never meant to remain hidden or private. The light that entered quietly is meant to be seen far beyond its place of origin.

The Magi kneel not because they understand everything, but because they understand enough.

Enough to worship.
Enough to change direction.
Enough to go home by another way.

Epiphany leaves us with a question that cannot be avoided.
Not Has God come?
But What have you learned to see?
What horizon has shifted while you were dwelling?
What light has been steady in the distance, waiting for attention rather than urgency?

Revelation does not demand speed.
It requires honesty.

The Christmas Season ends here, not with resolution, but with vision.

God has come.
God has remained.

Now the light is visible beyond the walls of the familiar.
The horizon has changed.

And as we return to ordinary days, we are not sent back empty-handed.

May the hope that taught you to wait, the love that came near and remained, and the light now revealed guide your attention and your steps as you return to ordinary days.