Epiphany 2 - 2026

Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany, Year A
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty

Where do you typically have revelations? Is it on a long drive? In the shower? When your mind wanders when are busy on another task?

I ponder those situations, my job always requires me to think on things, which thereby asks me to consider how I think on things, which can sometimes get very “meta”. 

I say all that because in today’s Gospel we get the prominent scriptural figure of John the Baptist declaring, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” And the lesser prominent, but equally important Andrew the Apostle, asking a simple question: “Where are you staying?”

And Jesus answers with some of the three of the most important words in all of Scripture, in my opinion:

“Come and see.”

That is how discipleship begins. Not with a lecture. Not with a test. Not with a creed to memorize. Not with a cosmological thesis like “I am the Way and the Truth, and the Life.”  But with an invitation: “Come and see.”

1

Andrew spends only a few hours with Jesus before he does the most Andrew-like thing imaginable: he goes to find someone else. He finds his brother Simon and says, “We have found the Messiah.”

That is Andrew’s spiritual gift. Over and over again in Scripture, Andrew is the one bringing people to Jesus. He brings his brother. Later, he brings a boy with five loaves and two fish. Later still, he brings some Greeks who want to meet Jesus. Andrew is never the center of the story. He does not preach a sermon at Pentecost. He does not walk on water. But again and again, he extends a hand and says, “Come and see.”

2

That phrase—Come and see—has followed me for much of my life. It was the name of the prospective student week at seminary. Every spring, aspirants from diocese around the Episcopal Church and others seeking degrees would be invited to campus for a few days. They would attend chapel, sit in on classes, share meals, and ask questions. The brochure said, “Come and See.”

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. It just sounded nice. But as a senior, getting ready to graduate, I suddenly realized how profoundly biblical that invitation was. The seminary wasn’t saying, “Sign up.” It wasn’t saying, “Commit your life today.” It was saying, “Come and see. Come worship. Come listen. Come be among us. Pay attention to what stirs in your heart.”

“Come and see” is the grammar of Christian invitation. It is how faith spreads—not through pressure, but through relationship. Not by argument, but by hospitality. Not by winning debates, but by opening doors.

Andrew does not say to Simon, “You need to change.” He does not say, “You’re wrong.” He does not even say, “You should believe what I believe.” He says, in effect, “I met someone. Come and see.”

This is a message for all of us today. We live in a culture that is wary of religion, suspicious of institutions, and often wounded by experiences with the church. Many people are not asking, “What is true?” as much as they are asking, “Is this safe? Is this real? Is there room for me?”

That is my prayer for this parish: Come and see a community that prays. Come and see a place where your questions are welcome. Come and see a table where you will not be turned away. Come and see a God who knows your name.

You do not have to have all the answers. Andrew didn’t. You do not have to be impressive. Andrew wasn’t. You simply have to be willing to say, with honesty and humility, “Come and see.”

Every time you invite someone to worship. Every time you tell a friend what this community means to you. Every time you say, “You don’t have to believe what I believe—just come and see,” you are walking in the footsteps of Andrew.

And when we do that, we trust that the real work belongs to Christ. We bring people to Jesus. Jesus does the transforming.

That is the Epiphany hope: that Christ is still being revealed—sometimes in light and glory, and sometimes in a simple invitation spoken by an ordinary disciple.

“Come and see.”

Amen