Guided by a Star We Did Not Own

ME (Orientation)

I want to begin with a confession.

As a pastor, a Christian, and a seminary student formed in both theology and interreligious studies...

I have wrestled with how open is too open...

I have sat in conversations with people of other faiths and felt both inspired and unsettled.

Inspired by their compassion, their discipline, and their hunger for justice.

Unsettled because a quiet voice inside me asks…

If I honor their journey, am I somehow betraying my own faith?

Maybe you have felt that tension too.

We live in a world where religious difference is no longer abstract.

It’s personal. It shows up in our workplaces, our neighborhoods, our families...

Sometimes, when a difference feels threatening, the instinct is often to retreat and protect what feels fragile.

But the question keeps pressing in...

Is faith something that shrinks when it encounters difference...

...or something that deepens?

We (Identification)

Most of us were taught either explicitly or implicitly that strong faith means certainty.

Clear boundaries. Knowing who’s in and who’s out.

And yet… certainty alone doesn’t seem to be saving us.

We see religious difference turning into suspicion.

Suspicion hardening into fear.

Fear turning into exclusion…

…especially towards immigrants, refugees, and religious minorities.

We’re told that diversity inevitably leads to conflict.

That the safest response is silence, separation, or spiritual silos.

However, many of us have experienced moments when encountering someone different didn’t weaken our faith...

...it clarified it.

When listening didn’t dilute belief but sharpened our compassion.

So, we live with tension...

How do we remain rooted and open?

Faithful and hospitable?

God (Illumination)

This is where Epiphany speaks with surprising clarity.

Matthew tells us that the first people to recognize Jesus as the Messiah are not religious insiders.

They are Magi—seekers from another land, another culture, another religious tradition.

They are unfamiliar with Israel’s Scriptures.

They are not part of the covenant community.

They follow a star, not a prophet.

And yet… they move toward Christ.

They bring gifts.

They kneel in reverence.

They listen for God’s warning.

...and they refuse to participate in violence.

Matthew does not erase their difference. He allows them to remain Magi.

He also refuses to dismiss their wisdom.

In Wesleyan language, what we are witnessing here is prevenient grace...

God’s grace is already moving, already guiding, already drawing people toward Christ before they know his name.

One of the things I love about my seminary is that it is ecumenical...

...it invites us to learn how different faith traditions understand salvation and other core theological questions.

Rather than weakening my faith, that process has pushed me to dig deeper into my own tradition...

...and to appreciate the differences with greater clarity.

For Methodists, everything turns on grace...

...and here is the crucial theological claim that shapes how we engage interfaith dialogue...

...salvation is not limited by human boundaries.

John Wesley believed God’s grace could not be reduced to human boundaries.

In Sermon 106, “On Faith,” he argues that God may genuinely teach people as they respond faithfully to the light they have received, even if this is outside Christianity.

Wesley insists that “whoever, in every nation, fears God and works righteousness is accepted of Him.”

This does not replace Christ, nor does it deny the gospel.

But it does mean that God's grace is already at work...

...drawing, teaching, and forming people...

...long before Christians arrive.

The Magi are not accidental to the story. They are theological witnesses to a God whose grace moves wider and earlier than we expect.

You (Application)

So what does Epiphany ask of us?

Not just to believe… but what to practice?

Eboo Patel, a thought leader in interfaith leadership, reminds us that interfaith leadership is not abstract.

It’s a set of skills and habits that people like you and I can learn.

The first is learning to notice...

...developing a radar screen for religious diversity.

Paying attention to how people around us hope, grieve, pray, and act.

Not assuming sameness. Not rushing to judgment. Just noticing.

The second is how we tell the story.

Choosing a public narrative of cooperation instead of conflict.

When religion shows up in the headlines as fear or violence, we tell another story...

...one where faith becomes a source of hospitality, justice, and peace.

The third is the relationship.

Not projects for people, but friendships with people.

Wesley would have called this conferencing… holy conversation that shapes lives over time.

The fourth is shared action.

Creating opportunities where people of different faiths work together...

Not to debate theology, but to feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and seek the common good.

Finally, the fifth is learning how to talk… and listen… and listen well...

Facilitating conversations where people bring their whole selves, name real differences, and still remain committed to one another’s dignity.

This week, I invite you to put these into practice by…

Noticing someone different.

Listening longer than feels comfortable.

Sharing a meal, a concern, or a story.

Because interfaith leadership doesn’t begin in institutions.

It begins in people who trust that God is already at work beyond the boundaries we draw.

We (Inspiration)

John Wesley taught that God works in the hearts of all people, offering light, stirring conscience, and calling them toward righteousness.

Wesley insisted that God expects no more of anyone than faithfulness to the light they have received…

            …and that such faithfulness is not invisible to God.

This does not remove Christ from the center.

It places Christ at the center of the grace that is already at work in the world.

That matters.

Because it means our faith does not collapse when we encounter goodness, wisdom, or compassion elsewhere.

It means we do not have to choose between conviction and cooperation.

We can hold fast to Christ while recognizing that God is already at work in others.

In a few moments, we will come to Christ’s table.

And notice that the table does not belong to us.

We do not guard it.

We do not control it.

Like the star, it is God’s invitation...

...drawing people from many journeys into one shared grace.

The Magi went home by another way.

...and perhaps Epiphany invites us to do the same...

...to leave this place changed...

...to choose bridges over barriers...

...hospitality over fear...

...and cooperation over withdrawal...

In the name of our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.