Ten Years Gone: The Mystery . . . Good! (Revised)

 

From Epiphany’s Light to Lent’s Quiet Wonder

First Published Wednesday, January 6, 2016. Revised March 10, 2026.

…to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things…

— Ephesians 3

This reflection was first written on Epiphany Day in 2016. Epiphany is full of light and revelation — the star, the wise men, the moment when the nations begin to see what God has been doing all along.

And yet, curiously, the word that appears again and again in the readings is mystery.

God’s plan is revealed — and still mysterious.

We know certain things. We know that God exists. We know that He has a purpose. We know that His purpose centers in Christ. We know that the promise at the end of the story is life — life that is fuller and wider than anything we can imagine.

But the details? Those remain hidden.

Paul calls it “the mystery hidden for ages.”

Human beings do not enjoy mystery very much. We are restless creatures. We want clarity, answers, explanations. We want to know how everything will unfold, and preferably sooner rather than later.

Yet Scripture suggests that waiting is part of the becoming of the completed soul.

There are longings in us — desires for beauty, joy, creativity, discovery, relationship — that sometimes feel too large for the small span of a human lifetime. The Christian hope has always been that these longings are not mistakes. They are hints.

Hints of something larger.

Hints that the story is not finished.

When I wrote this ten years ago, the season was Epiphany — a season of lights, stars, and sudden revelation. But now, reading it during Lent, the emphasis shifts. Lent does not remove the mystery. It deepens it.

We walk with Christ toward the Cross knowing that the final meaning of that journey will not be fully understood until the Resurrection.

God seems unafraid of mystery. In fact, He appears to delight in it.

He made a universe that invites exploration. He made human hearts that are endlessly curious. And then, at the center of everything, He placed the greatest mystery of all: what His final kingdom will actually be like.

The promise is not merely that it will exist.

The promise is that it will be good.

And so we move from the bright revelation of Epiphany into the quieter discipline of Lent, still drawn forward by the same fascination: the sense that God is leading us somewhere wonderful, even if we cannot yet see exactly how.

Mystery, it turns out, is not something to fear.

It is something to follow.