By Dr. Megan Bedford-Strohm
Epiphany always feels like a turning point to me.
It closes the Christmas season, yes–but it also pulls back the curtain a little wider on what Christmas has been telling us all along: God comes through radical hospitality, and God’s coming reshapes who we think is “in” and who we assume is “out.”
Throughout Advent and Christmas, I’ve been noticing the many forms of hospitality–both divine and human–woven into the nativity story. Again and again, key figures follow God into what I’ve been calling a holy yes and a holy welcome.
Mary says yes to God through the angel Gabriel, welcoming the Christ child at great personal risk–becoming the Theotokos, the God-bearer. Joseph offers his own holy yes, staying and raising the child as his own. An innkeeper offers shelter when there is “no room.” God welcomes shepherds into the story—of all people—and Mary and Joseph welcome those shepherds into their vulnerable space and into the miracle.
The circle keeps widening.
And then we arrive at Epiphany—and the Magi.
The Magi and the Outsiders Who “Got It”
Every year we place the Magi in our nativity scenes. We sing “We Three Kings.” We even had a living nativity this year with beautiful Magi costumes—and yes, a llama standing in for our usual camel, Noah (who was sick).
But for all the familiarity, I’ll admit: I haven’t always slowed down enough to really dwell on how strange and meaningful these figures are.
Matthew introduces them immediately, early in chapter 2, right near the beginning of the New Testament. That alone is significant. Matthew was a Jew writing to a primarily Jewish audience—people who had long understood themselves to be God’s chosen in a fairly exclusive sense.
And then Matthew includes this story.
Magi—foreign stargazers and dream-followers from the East, likely Persia (modern-day Iran). Not Jews. Not insiders. Not people you’d expect to show up as key figures in the story of the Messiah.
And yet, they are the ones who receive revelation. They are the ones who move. They are the ones who worship.
That should make us pause.
When “Insiders” Have Knowledge But Not Wisdom
Because the Magi are looking for a king, they do what makes sense: they go to Jerusalem. They speak to King Herod, the Roman-appointed ruler over Judea—ruthless, competitive, and deeply threatened by anything that might disrupt his power.
When the Magi ask about the “born King of the Jews,” Herod is confused—and then clearly alarmed. You can almost imagine his posture changing, leaning in with suspicion: Tell me more.
So Herod consults the chief priests and scribes—people trained in Scripture, people who knew the prophecies. And they do, in fact, point to Bethlehem, quoting Micah:
“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah… out of you will come for me one who will be ruler…”
Here is where I get stuck every time.
Why didn’t they go?
Why didn’t the chief priests—who had the Bible knowledge, who could quote the prophecy—follow the star to worship the Savior?
And another question: surely they knew what kind of man Herod was. Did none of them warn the Magi? Did none of them try to protect the child? Or did none of them have the courage?
We can’t know all the details. But what we can see is this: the chief priests had the “book knowledge,” yet they were missing true wisdom. They had ears to hear, but not hearts to perceive.
And maybe that is why John 1:11 rings so true here:
“He came to his own, but his own did not receive him.”
It is sobering to consider that the ones who should have recognized Jesus most clearly were the ones who missed him—and that their successors would one day play a role in his death.
There’s a line from the Africa Bible Commentary that I shared in the sermon that keeps echoing in my mind: the most knowledgeable church people can be the very ones who take Jesus for granted. That’s a dangerous place to be.
Because pride in our knowledge of Christ, the Bible, and the church can become a snare. Not because knowledge is bad—but because knowledge without love, movement, humility, and courage can harden into complacency.
God Reveals the Truth Where God Chooses
Meanwhile, the “outsiders” got it.
The Magi—these strange, foreign dream-followers with their accents and odd practices—drop everything and set out on a long journey into the unknown. They bring expensive gifts. They risk the road. They risk rejection. They follow the light they’ve been given.
And we don’t know exactly how they knew to follow the star. There are theories, yes, but the deeper point remains: God reserves the right to reveal divine truth wherever and to whomever God chooses.
Often, it is not who we expect.
The Magi respond to revelation with joy, humility, and worship. Herod responds with fear, hatred, and contempt. The powerful insiders cause harm. Yet even so—death and evil do not get the last word.
God warns the Magi in a dream. They do not return to Herod. And their faithfulness becomes part of how God protects the Christ child.
The Gospel Breaks Revelation Wide Open
One of the wildest and most world-upending things about Jesus is the way his coming breaks open the boundaries of belonging.
The circle widens.
The torn veil becomes a symbol that access to God is no longer gated by status, tribe, or religious pedigree. And Galatians 3:28 names it plainly: there is no Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male or female—we are one in Christ Jesus.
The Magi are not a footnote. They are a sign of what is coming: the nations bringing their offerings to Christ. The Gentiles worshiping Jesus. Outsiders becoming family.
This is what I mean by the hospitality of revelation.
God came for all. God says, “Welcome.”
And because God says “Welcome,” we are also called to say, “Welcome.”
The Biblical Call to Welcome the Stranger
Scripture is unequivocal about this. Hospitality is not a personality trait in the Bible—it is a command, a way of life, a spiritual practice.
“Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.” (1 Peter 4:9)
“You shall not oppress a foreigner…” (Exodus 23:9)
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers…” (Hebrews 13:2)
“I was a stranger and you invited me in.” (Matthew 25:35)
If we truly believe the Gospel, we must take seriously the call to welcome the stranger, the foreigner, the sojourner, the refugee—the one who seems different from us.
Because very often, revelation comes wearing unfamiliar clothing.
A Holy Yes and a Holy Welcome in 2026
I find myself circling back to Mary.
When she said her holy yes, she could not have known what that welcome would require: giving birth far from home, receiving shepherds in a vulnerable postpartum moment, fleeing to Egypt as refugees, opening her life to foreign travelers following a star who would bow down before her baby.
Each step is wild. Unexpected. Uncomfortable.
And fear would be the natural response. It certainly was Herod’s response. Without supernatural help, we often respond in fear to what we cannot control or understand.
As we step into this new year, I don’t know what each of us is being called to.
Will you be the seeker like the Magi—following God into unfamiliar places?
Or will you stay where you are, but be called to welcome the unfamiliar into your spaces—your home, your friendships, your neighborhood, your church, your heart?
Either way, a holy yes will stretch us. A holy welcome will cost us something. It will require us to leave our comfort zones and trust the providence of God.
So I’ll leave you with the question I’m asking myself too:
What will be our holy yes?
What will be our holy welcome?
And where might God be revealing Truth through the person we least expected?
Summary: Key Questions & Answers
What is Epiphany in Christianity?
Epiphany celebrates the revealing of Christ to the nations, traditionally marked by the story of the Magi in Matthew 2.
Who were the Magi in the Christmas story?
The Magi were foreign stargazers/wise ones from the East who followed a star to find and worship Jesus, showing that God’s revelation extends beyond insiders.
What is “the hospitality of revelation”?
It is the idea that God’s truth and welcome are offered broadly—often to outsiders—and that God reveals divine truth in unexpected people and places.
Why did the “insiders” miss Jesus in Matthew 2?
Herod responded with fear, and the religious leaders had knowledge of Scripture but did not act on it. They had information without the response of worship, courage, or humility.
What does this sermon teach about welcoming strangers?
Scripture consistently calls believers to welcome and protect strangers, foreigners, and refugees as an expression of faithfulness to God and the Gospel.
What is a “holy yes” and a “holy welcome”?
A holy yes is responding to God’s invitation with trust, even when it costs something. A holy welcome is making room for God and others—especially the unexpected—without fear.
How can I practice this message in daily life?
Look for opportunities to welcome someone unfamiliar, stay open to God’s guidance in unexpected places, and resist fear-based responses that shut people out.