Sermon by Pr. Sharai Jacob on the Third Sunday after Epiphany + Sunday, January 18, 2026

An alternate version of this sermon was given at HTLoop on Saturday, January 17, in remembrance of Mark Law. Text for both are on this page.

Sermon at HTLakeview, Sunday, January 18

Last week, we encountered John the Baptist as the one who baptizes.

This week, we meet John as the one who testifies.

John offers his testimony by pointing to Jesus and declaring that he truly is the Chosen One—the Messiah. But John’s testimony may not look quite like what we often imagine when we hear that word.

Growing up, I had a very different idea of what it meant to “testify.” When people shared their testimony, it was often a personal story—a miracle, a turning point, a life-changing experience they wanted to give God credit for. Those stories mattered. They still do. But John’s testimony works a little differently.

John doesn’t center himself. Instead, he reiterates what he has already said: that Jesus is the one who comes after him yet ranks before him. He testifies to what he has seen—the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove and remaining on Jesus. He explains how God had given him a sign to look for, a way to recognize the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit. And then he concludes, plainly and confidently:

“I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Chosen One.”

John is doing two things at once. He is pointing directly to Jesus, and he is explaining how he came to recognize God at work. In many ways, the testimonies we share are meant to do the same—to help one another see that God is present, here and now, in real life.

So that raises the question for us:

Where do we see God in our own lives?

Many people experience God’s presence through nature—through creation itself. Our scripture is filled with natural imagery. There is water in baptism. There is the Lamb of God. There is the Holy Spirit descending like a dove.

We often talk about the dove symbolically, as a sign of peace. But what happens if we take the image seriously, even literally? God’s Spirit taking on the form of a living creature. Throughout the Psalms, all of creation joins in praising God—mountains, rivers, stars, and skies. Perhaps the Spirit descending like a dove is a reminder that God’s presence is not limited to humanity alone, but is woven into all of creation. God is present in the earth beneath our feet, in the wilderness, even in the farthest reaches of creation.

And in this story, two of John’s disciples seem eager to find God in their own lives. They hear John’s testimony, they catch a glimpse of something—hope, curiosity, possibility—and they begin chasing after it. They don’t yet have certainty. They simply have enough faith to take the next step.

I think many of us would describe our own faith journeys that way. Often, we don’t have dramatic stories to tell. Instead, we have small moments—moments we sometimes dismiss because we can’t fully explain them.

It might’ve rained everyday in the fall, so why is it that on that one particular day when I was praying, the rain felt like God’s grace materialized. How do you explain that? How do you point, like John, and say with conviction, “Right there. That’s God with us”?

My mother once explained it to me this way: God isn’t necessarily making the rain fall just when you need it. The rain was probably going to fall anyway. But God pointed it out to you and used it to comfort you. And even if something is a coincidence, that does not mean the Holy Spirit wasn’t revealed in your heart through it. Sometimes, it’s not that God is out there in the rain, but speaking from within your own heart.

There is a tender, almost humorous moment in this gospel when Jesus turns around and sees two people following him. He asks them: “What are you looking for?”

Their response is translated as, “Where are you staying?” On the surface, it sounds practical. But the word they use carries deeper meaning. It’s about remaining, abiding—about dwelling. It’s the same word used earlier when the Spirit “remains” on Jesus.

What they are really asking is:

Where do you abide?

Where can we stay with God?

Where can we live in God’s presence?

And Jesus answers with an invitation rather than an explanation:

“Come and see.”

That place of abiding might look different for each of us. It might be a cabin you retreat to surrounded by nature, a quiet place where you feel close to God. It might be your dinner table, where stories are shared and faith is quietly passed on. It might be here—gathered in worship with your church family. What a gift it is to abide with God together.

Once these disciples find where Jesus is abiding, something shifts. One of them, Andrew, goes and finds his brother. His testimony is simple and direct: “We have found the Messiah.” He doesn’t overexplain. He doesn’t argue. He simply invites. And when Simon comes to Jesus, Jesus gives him a new name—Peter, the Rock. A name that speaks not to who he has been, but to who God is calling him to become.

And that brings us to today—because this story is not only about John, Andrew, and Peter. It is about all of us.

In this uncertain world, when our neighbors are living in fear, while people are being kidnapped in the streets, at their jobs, or in their homes, many of us are asking again where God is staying now? Where is the God who abides with us, when we are swallowed by grief, or when we are paralyzed by our fear? Our Gospel reading today assures us that Jesus does not turn away from those questions. He turns toward us and then he offers the same invitation: “Come and see.”

Come and see that God abides not only in joy, but in sorrow.

Come and see that God is present not only in some imaginary certainty, but in the very real messy, turbulent world we experience.

On this weekend, we remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., we are invited to reflect on the testimony of his life as it points beyond his own story towards the God of the oppressed. God’s justice, God’s mercy, and God’s abiding presence among us. Through preaching, organizing, and persistent hope, he pointed to the vision of God’s beloved community. His witness helps us see that faith is not only something we hold in our hearts, but something we live out in the world—through courage, through love of neighbor, and through a commitment to justice grounded in grace. His witness reminds us that God abides not only in moments of peace and comfort, but also in the long and faithful work of justice. Even when the way forward is costly or uncertain, God abides.

And now, like Andrew, we are called not to keep that testimony to ourselves. We are called to live it. To carry Christ’s presence into the world through compassion, through service, through courageous love, and through hope that refuses to give up.

We may not always know how to explain what we have seen or felt. But we can still point and say, “God was here. God is still here.

So may we go from this place as witnesses—not to our own strength, but to God’s abiding grace. May we live our faith in ways that invite others to come and see. And may the Spirit who descended and remained on Christ also remain with us, comforting us, guiding us, and holding us, with the saints, and all of creation, in the promise of resurrection and life.

Amen.

Sermon at HTLoop, Saturday, January 17

Last week, we encountered John the Baptist as the one who baptizes.

This week, we meet John as the one who testifies.

John offers his testimony by pointing to Jesus and declaring that he truly is the Chosen One—the Messiah. But John’s testimony may not look quite like what we often imagine when we hear that word.

Growing up, I had a very different idea of what it meant to “testify.” When people shared their testimony, it was often a personal story—a miracle, a turning point, a life-changing experience they wanted to give God credit for. Those stories mattered. They still do. But John’s testimony works a little differently.

John doesn’t talk about himself. Instead, he reiterates what he has already said: that Jesus is the one who comes after him yet ranks before him. He testifies to what he has seen—the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove and remaining on Jesus. He explains how God had given him a sign to look for, a way to recognize the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit. And then he concludes, plainly and confidently: