By Dr. John Singarayar SVD –
Last Tuesday morning, Stella was washing dishes when she noticed something. Her teenage daughter, usually glued to her phone, was helping her younger brother with his homework at the kitchen table. The afternoon light came through the window just so, catching both their faces as they bent over the math book together. For a moment, everything felt different, like she was seeing something she had missed a thousand times before. Stella could not explain it exactly, but standing there with her hands in soapy water, she felt God was right there in her kitchen.
We often think of Epiphany as that special day on the church calendar when we remember the wise men finding baby Jesus. We picture dramatic moments—angels appearing, voices from heaven, burning bushes. But what if Epiphany is meant to be more than a once-a-year celebration? What if God is constantly showing up in our everyday lives, and we are just not trained to notice?
The word ‘epiphany’ means a manifestation or showing. It is when something hidden becomes visible, when light breaks through. For Christians, Epiphany celebrates how God revealed himself to the whole world through Jesus. But here is the thing—if God wanted to be known then, why would he stop now? If he showed up in a stable and later at a well and in a fishing boat, why would he not show up in our kitchens and cars and cubicles too?
Think about it this way. When you love someone deeply, you do not just show up once and disappear. You weave yourself into their daily life. You are there in the morning coffee and the goodnight kiss, in the shared joke and the comfortable silence. God’s love works the same way. He is not distant or occasional. He is present, persistent, and personal.
The trouble is we are looking in the wrong places. We wait for the extraordinary when God is fluent in ordinary. We expect thunder when he often whispers. We want burning bushes when he is more likely to show up in burning dinners, in the chaos of family life, in the frustration of traffic jams, and in the weariness of another long day.
Jesus himself taught us this. He talked about God’s kingdom using bread and seeds and lost coins. He found his disciples among fishermen and tax collectors. He turned water into wine at a wedding party and cooked breakfast on a beach. His whole life was about showing us that God inhabits the ordinary, transforms it, and makes it sacred.
So what does this mean for us? It means that every walk of life—every role we play, every task we do, every person we meet—can become a place where God manifests himself. When a nurse checks on a patient with genuine care, that is epiphany. When a teacher stays late to help a struggling student, that is God showing up. When a father bites his tongue instead of snapping at his kids, choosing patience over anger, that is divine grace breaking through.
It happens in suffering too. When someone walks through grief and somehow finds they are not alone in the darkness, that is God manifesting. When forgiveness breaks through after years of bitterness, when hope survives despite everything suggesting it should not, when love persists when it would be easier to stop loving—these are epiphanies, moments when God’s presence becomes undeniable.
The key is learning to see. It is about paying attention with what the old writers called “the eyes of faith”. It is choosing to believe that the God who created galaxies also cares about your Tuesday afternoon. It is trusting that the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is at work in your frustrations and your small victories, your relationships and your routine.
This does not mean everything that happens is good or that God causes our pain. It means that even in difficulty, God is present. Even in the mundane, he is active. Even in our fumbling attempts at love and faith, he is there, closer than our breath, weaving meaning into what could otherwise feel meaningless.
Stella did not hear any angels that Tuesday. There was no voice from heaven. But watching her children help each other, she glimpsed something true about God’s nature—that he shows up in kindness, in patience, and in the small ways we care for each other. She saw that love, wherever it appears, is a manifestation of God, because God is love.
Maybe that is what we are meant to celebrate—not just on Epiphany Sunday, but every single day. God is not hiding. He is here, in every walk of life, waiting to be noticed. All we need to do is open our eyes, pay attention, and recognise the holy in the humble, the sacred in the simple, and the divine in the daily. Every moment holds the possibility of epiphany. Every day, God shows up. The question is: are we watching?
A good reflection