“The Road Isn’t Straight”

Epiphany Sunday

January 5, 2025

Matthew 2:1-12

“Are we there, yet?” I imagine kids have been asking that question since the dawn of time. Ready for the journey to be over. Ready to be on to the next task. Ready to finally land and be ‘there’—wherever ‘there’ is. It’s what we adults ask, as well, as we tell ourselves that once this particular challenge, this season, this weather, this job, this whatever is over, we’ll finally be free. We’ll be happy. Once we have this item or that partner, we’ll be happy. Once we have enough money, take a trip, get through the holidays, get home, we’ll be okay. Are we there yet?

The problem with all of this is that no matter where we go or where we land, no matter where the journey takes us, we’re still there. We still have ourselves with us. Ourselves and every difficulty, every darkness, every insecurity we hold doesn’t get left on the road. No matter how long it takes to arrive, we are still us on the other side.

When I took my first sabbatical, I was frazzled and fraught. It had been a very long and difficult first seven years of ministry, and I needed rest. I needed a break. I needed to be refreshed. My family went on a two-week walk-about—through Iowa and Indiana, Illinois and Missouri. I thought that after all the time away, I’d feel better. I’d be rested. I’d be rejuvenated. What I didn’t anticipate was that no matter where I went, I was still me. I was still anxious. I was still dealing with depression. It wasn’t the situation that needed to change. It was not my surroundings or my location. It was me. I needed to change.

It was a hard reality to come to. The road isn’t straight. And the destination isn’t the point. The Magi had studied the stars and came from the east to discover the truth of what the stars indicated. They weren’t kings. They weren’t necessarily wise. They likely weren’t all men. And there were almost certainly more than three. They were astrologers, scientists, dream-interpreters, possibly Zoroastrians—men and women in their ranks.

Some believe what they saw was a lining up of Jupiter and Saturn—Jupiter a sign of royalty and Saturn a sign of the Jews. So they began a journey to learn more. They naturally went to where the royalty should be—to Jerusalem. And their inquiries sent Herod into a tailspin. His tenuous grasp on his position was only at the mercy of Rome—the real people in charge. His response was filled with fear and paranoia. And soon enough, it would include infanticide—killing all the male children under the age of 2, just to be sure he got the right one.

For Herod, every road he envisioned held threat. And because of that, every road he took was one of rigid control. He had to maintain control if he was to maintain power. Any road with curves or surprises were blown apart, forced into a straight and narrow path that had a guarantee at the end. And if that meant killing, so be it.

But when the magi finally found Jesus, they saw a very different kind of power. A very different kind of royalty. A very different kind of path.

Are we there yet? It depends, I suppose, on where ‘there’ is. If ‘there’ is a place of security and stability, of certainty and perfection, then I’m afraid we’re in for a very long wait. Because those things don’t last long in our fragile world. They keep moving and dancing around us, changing our trajectory, sending us in meaningless circles as we strive to find footing.

But perhaps ‘there’ is something different. Perhaps being ‘there is about embracing the journey and all its surprises.

Suluika Jaouad gave a TED talk called “What Almost Dying Taught Me About Living.” At the age of 22, she was diagnosed with leukemia and given a 35% chance of survival. She spent 4 years living her life from the confines of her hospital room as she navigated through chemo sessions and recovery from a bone marrow transplant.

In between the various therapies, she began blogging about her experience and making connections with people across the country—people who understood her experience through their own eyes. A retied professor who had a mysterious debilitating illness since he was a young man. A man on death row. A teenager recovering from cancer, herself.

Suluika was eventually cured of cancer. And that’s where her journey really began. Because she and everyone else thought that being cured meant that her life was now on a straight and narrow road to happiness. Instead, she realized she didn’t know how to live. She knew how to fight cancer, but once that was over, she didn’t know what life should hold for her next. The emotional and physical experience left her completely broken. And she felt ashamed that she wasn’t happier with the cancer gone. Shouldn’t life be easier? Shouldn’t it be better?

What she learned—and is still learning—is that life is lived in the messiness. And when we can embrace the convoluted path we’re on, that’s when we really start living. That’s when we find peace. And hope. In the midst of whatever we’re given. Whatever we experience.

Learning to live while still on the journey isn’t easy. And yet, that’s what life is all about. We are all on the journey. And the road isn’t straight. It twists and turns. There are incredibly high points with amazing views. And there are deep, dark valleys where it’s a struggle to even see the next step you take. And every one of those moments is a blessing.

If all we do is wait for the destination to finally embrace happiness, we will always be disappointed. Because when we reach whatever destination we imagine, we find ourselves there with all the baggage we’ve been carrying along the way.

Once the magi encountered Jesus, their journey didn’t end. It began. Recognizing the holy in this tiny child freed them from the fear-filled demands of Herod. Engaging power in a humble home inspired them to offer gifts of immense wealth and meaning. I wonder what stories they told of their journey as they made their way home. I wonder what they recalled of their experiences and what they told family and friends who awaited them on their return. I wonder if they pondered the stars in the night sky a little differently.

I wonder if they took meandering journeys along unknown paths a little more often, looking for ways they could get lost and anticipating what blessings they may encounter when they least expect it. I wonder if we wander enough along unknown and little traveled paths enough. I wonder if we let go of the destination enough to enjoy the journey. I wonder what would happen if we stopped asking if we’re there yet and looked around us, marveling at all the amazing things along the way.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE