Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Message Title: “Attention”

Texts: Isaiah 58:6-10; 1 John 3:16-18

Good morning, church.

Last week we heard a clear challenge: real worship doesn’t stay in the sanctuary. It flows into Monday. Real faith doesn’t stay in our mouths. It shows up in our lives.

Today I want to take one step back not away from action, but back to the place where action is born. Because before love becomes action, love begins as attention. Love begins with seeing.

Listen again to the turning point in 1 John:

“If anyone has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need, yet closes their heart… how does God’s love abide in that person?”

Do you hear the spiritual drama in those two verbs?

Sees… and closes.

This passage is not only asking, “Do you help?”
It’s asking, “What happens inside you the moment you notice?”

Because that moment is where love either begins or ends.

1) The gospel comes first: Love has a shape

John begins with Jesus:

“By this we know love: that Jesus laid down his life for us.”

That sentence is not moral pressure. It’s a revelation. Love has a shape. Love is not vague. Love is not just intention. Love looks like Jesus self-giving, cross-shaped love.

And here’s what I want you to notice: Jesus didn’t only give his life at the end. Jesus gave attention all along the way.

Jesus noticed people that everyone else blurred into the background.
He noticed the ones on the edges.
He noticed hunger. Shame. Loneliness.
He noticed the person no one looked at.

And that matters for us, because we often think the opposite:
We think love starts when we do something big.
But in the gospel, love often starts when Jesus simply sees someone and refuses to look away.

So the foundation today is this:
Before we talk about what we do for others, we remember what Christ has done for us.
We are not trying to earn love.
We are learning to live inside a love we have already received.

2) The real battle is not only generosity. It’s distraction.

Now John gets painfully practical:

“If anyone… sees a brother or sister in need…”

Notice: the test begins with sight. With noticing. With attention.

And I think this is where the message gets very honest for modern life.

A lot of us do not fail to love because we are hateful.
We fail to love because we are distracted.

Our attention is constantly pulled.
Our minds are crowded.
Our schedules are full.
Even our compassion can feel exhausted.

And when your life is full, it becomes easy to miss what is empty in someone else.

So sometimes the issue isn’t, “Do I care?”
The issue is, “Did I even truly see?”

Let me put it this way:

You can be a sincere Christian and still move through your week like you’re driving with your eyes half-closed just trying to get to the next thing.

And then need appears, right in front of you, and your heart has a reflex.

John names that reflex:

“and yet closes their heart…”

That phrase is powerful because it doesn’t only describe money. It describes an inner movement.

We close our hearts with busyness:
“I don’t have time.”

We close our hearts with fear:
“If I help once, will I have to keep helping?”

We close our hearts with judgment:
“They should have handled it better.”

We close our hearts with exhaustion:
“I can’t take one more thing.”

We close our hearts with distance:
“Someone else will do it.”

And sometimes we close our hearts without even realizing it, because we’re trained to keep moving.

Church, attention is not neutral.
Attention is spiritual.

What you repeatedly notice, you learn to love.
What you repeatedly ignore, your heart learns to bypass.

So today’s sermon is not mainly, “Try harder.”
It’s, “Slow down enough to see.”

3) Love in action and truth begins with a holy pause

John ends with a gentle sentence:

“Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in action and truth.”

He calls them “little children” because this is not a harsh scolding. It’s a loving formation. He’s teaching a way of life.

And here is the fresh application for us today:

Before “action,” we need a holy pause.
A moment where we resist the reflex to rush.
A moment where we choose to see.

So I want to give you a simple three-step pattern for the week.
Not a huge program. Not a dramatic pledge.

Just three words:

Stop. See. Open.

• Stop: long enough to become present.

• See: one person clearly, not as a problem but as a neighbor.

• Open: your heart just a little then your hands will follow.

This is how love becomes tangible without becoming performative.

And this connects directly to Jesus’ words in Matthew: “You are the light of the world.”

Light is not loud. Light is present. Light helps others see.

So when love begins with attention, it becomes light.

Not spotlight. Not show. Not “look at me.”

But steady, faithful light.

4) The Praxis: one quiet act of mercy

So here is our practice for the week:

Do one quiet act of mercy.

Quiet means: no credit. No announcement. No performance.
One act means: small enough to do, real enough to matter.
Mercy means: it meets a real need practically, kindly, truthfully.

And I want to say this clearly: this is not about saving the whole world this week.
This is about refusing to close your heart one time.

Maybe it looks like a call you keep postponing.
Maybe it looks like making a meal, or sharing a gift card, or giving a ride.
Maybe it looks like sitting with someone who is lonely and actually listening.
Maybe it looks like apologizing repairing something you’ve been avoiding.
Maybe it looks like encouragement one truthful sentence that strengthens someone who feels invisible.

Love doesn’t have to be big to be real.
It just has to be honest. Action and truth.

5) A short practice right now

Let’s do 10 seconds of silence not to pressure anyone, but to train attention.

In the silence, ask two questions:

Lord, who am I overlooking?
And what is one quiet act of mercy I can do?

If a name came to mind, don’t push it away.
That may be the Spirit helping you see.

And if nothing came to mind, start with the prayer:

“Lord, open my eyes.”
“Lord, open my heart.”
“Lord, open my hands.”

Because this is what God is forming among us.

Not a church that only talks about love.
But a church that notices.

A church that slows down enough to see people.
A church that refuses to close its heart.
A church whose worship becomes quiet mercy.

So church, this week:

Stop. See. Open.
Do one quiet act of mercy.
And let the love of Christ become tangible repair, share, and shine.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.