LIGHT ON THE SHORELINE

Light on the Shoreline // Matthew 4:12-23 // Epiphany Year A

Here now the Good news found in our Gospel reading which is Matthew 4:12-23:

12 Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. 13 He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, 14 so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: 15 “Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the gentiles— 16 the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” 17 From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”,* 

18 As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishers. 19 And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” 20 Immediately they left their nets and followed him. 21 As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. 22 Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. 

23 Jesus went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

 New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Friendship Press, 2021), Mt 4:12–23.

This is the word of God for the people of God.

Thanks be to God.

Let us pray: Gracious God, As we listen for your Word, Quite the noice within usAnd steady the places that feel uncertain. Let your light find us where we are, And let your voice be clear enough to follow. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

There is something about snow that changes the way we move through the world. When the forecast starts talking about accumulation and wind chill, we make different decisions. We cancel plans. We leave early. We drive slower. We listen more carefully to the radio and the weather app and the sound of the tires on the road. We move with caution, because we know the ground beneath us may not be as solid as it looks.

And today, because of that storm, you and I are not gathered in our sanctuary. We are gathered across living rooms and kitchens and bedrooms. We are gathered by screens and speakers and phones and iPads. We are worshiping from where we are. Which, as it turns out, is exactly where today’s Gospel lesson begins.

Matthew tells us that Jesus starts his ministry in a place called Galilee — not in Jerusalem, not in the temple, not in a place of certainty or power or control — but in a region Scripture calls “the land of darkness.”

Here the people are described not as walking, not as seeking, not as striving — but as sitting. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” They were not on a pilgrimage. They were not searching for enlightenment. They were not expecting a miracle. They were sitting. Sometimes darkness does not come as panic. Sometimes it comes as fatigue. Sometimes it comes as caution. Sometimes it comes as waiting. Sometimes, darkness looks like people who have been through enough change that they are not sure what to expect anymore.

Matthew tells us that Jesus begins his work after hearing that John the Baptist has been arrested. Disruption is already in the air. Loss has already arrived. The world is already unstable. And instead of retreating from that moment, Jesus steps into it. He leaves Nazareth and makes his home in Capernaum — a fishing town, a working town, a shoreline town. And Matthew dares to say that this move is not random. It is fulfillment. It is promise. It is light choosing a place to land. Not because the people are ready. But because they are there.

That’s the first thing this text wants us to see: Light does not wait for us to be prepared. Light comes to where we are. The people are sitting in darkness — and the light comes to them. The fishermen are working — and the call comes to them. The kingdom of heaven comes near — not when life is stable, but when it is uncertain.

Matthew’s Gospel was not written in a season of calm. It was shaped in the years after things had fallen apart— after the temple had burned, after communities had scattered, after familiar ways of worship had been lost. Matthean scholar, Ulrich Luz reminds us that Matthew is telling this story for people who already know what it means to live after disruption.

Which means this moment—Jesus beginning his ministry in Galilee—is not Matthew telling where Jesus went, But rather the Gospel is telling us what kind of God we are dealing with. God does not wait for the world to feel settled before acting. God begins again in places Scripture once called dark.Not in the center of power. Not in the halls of certainty. But on a shoreline. Among working hands.

In a region the prophet Isaiah once named “shadow.” Which tells us something about how God chooses starting points. Not where life is polished— but where it is lived. And that matters for any community living through a season like this. Because when life has changed more than we expected, we learn to move carefully. We build walls. Not because we don’t love God. Not because we don’t want to grow. But because we’ve learned how precious stability can be.

Matthew doesn’t describe these people as rebellious or faithless. He says they were sitting in darkness. Sometimes darkness looks like panic. But sometimes it looks like waiting. Like holding hope gently. Like not being sure what step comes next. And that’s not a failure of faith. That’s a survival instinct.

The people in Matthew’s Gospel are not described as rebellious. They are not described as wicked. They are not described as resistant.They are described as sitting. And into that posture — into that stillness, into that position you may be in on your couch right now, into that waiting — a great light appears. Which means this sermon is not about telling you to do more.

It is not about scolding you for being tired. As we all are. No, It is not about demanding energy you don’t yet have. It is about noticing where Jesus chooses to stand. Matthew says that when Jesus arrives in Galilee, he begins to say,“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” We often hear that word “repent” as accusation. As if it means, “You’re doing it wrong.” But at its heart, it means: Change your way of seeing. Change your direction. Turn toward what is coming. And what is coming is not punishment. What is coming is the kingdom. What is coming is presence. What is coming is light. Jesus is not saying, “Fix yourselves.” He is saying, “Look — something new is happening.” And then he does something small and ordinary and strange.

He walks along the shoreline. He walks where people are working. And he sees two brothers casting nets into the water — Simon and Andrew. And he says, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers for people.”And Matthew says they immediately leave their nets and follow him.Then he sees James and John in a boat with their father, mending their nets. And he calls them. And they immediately leave the boat and their father and follow him. Now, that word “immediately” can make us uncomfortable. Because most of us do not follow Jesus immediately.

We follow slowly. We follow cautiously. We follow with questions. We follow with hesitation. We follow with calendars and conditions and conversations. So we read this and think, What kind of faith is that? But notice what Jesus does not ask them first. He does not ask them if they understand. He does not ask them if they are ready. He does not ask them if they have a five-year plan. He simply says, “Follow me.” Which means discipleship does not begin with certainty. It begins with movement. The call does not come after they change their lives. The call comes in the middle of them living them.

Nets in hand.

Boats in water.

Family nearby.

Work unfinished.

And that’s important for the church.Because God is not waiting for you to feel settled before calling you forward. God is not waiting for the snow to melt.God is not waiting for everything to be clear. God’s light meets you where you are and calls you forward.This is not a call to abandon your past. It is a call to trust your future. Not because it will be easy. Not because it will be fast. But because Christ is already there. The shoreline is a liminal place. It is where land meets water. It is where stability meets risk. It is where what you know meets what you can’t see beneath the surface.

And that is where Jesus walks. Not into certainty. But into transition. And if we’re honest, that is exactly where this congregation stands. Between what has been and what will be. Between who you were and who you are becoming. Between caution and calling.

And the Gospel today says:Light does not wait for you to cross that threshold alone. Light walks up beside you and says, “Follow me.” That does not mean abandoning wisdom.It does not mean ignoring wounds. It does not mean pretending the past did not happen. It means believing that God is still doing something new. It means believing that stability does not come before calling. Calling comes before stability. It means trusting that Christ is not passing through Greenville – Christ is making a home.

Matthew tells us that Jesus went throughout Galilee teaching and proclaiming the good news and healing every disease and sickness among the people.Which means the call to follow is never just about leaving something behind. It is about becoming part of something alive. A community of healing. A community of teaching. A community of good news.

Not perfect people.But called people moving toward a deeper abiding love perfected in the Spirit. And maybe that is the invitation for you today. Not to run. Not to rush. Not to force hope.But to take one step out of sitting. One step into listening.

One step into belonging. One step into believing that this moment — this strange Sunday, this snow-bound worship, this new beginning — is not an interruption of God’s plan.

It is where the light is shining. Nets still drip with darkness. And yet, Light walks the shoreline calling. “Follow me,” it says.Which means the promise of this text is not that everything will suddenly feel safe.

The promise is this: Christ’s light meets us where we are and calls us forward. Not into chaos. Not into fear. Not into exhaustion. But into shared life.Into trust. Into the slow, holy work of becoming disciples together.

So wherever you are sitting today — In a living room. In a kitchen. In a recliner. In uncertainty. In caution. In hope. In grief.

Hear this: You are not outside the light.You are not behind the call. You are not forgotten on the shoreline. Christ is walking toward you. With you. Always. And the kingdom has come near.

In the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Let us pray.

Christ our Light,

You meet us in ordinary places and call us toward new life.

Give us courage to trust your leading, and grace to follow one step at a time.

Make us a people shaped by your presence and guided by your love.

Amen.