There was a great feeling of optimism on the day my new boss started.

She was energetic, smart, and witty. But within the first week things changed. My co-workers and I noticed she wanted to review nearly everything we did, no matter how minute. Before we knew it she turned into a control freak.

So we naturally asked the question, what’s she scared of?

There were plenty of answers: Did she feel she was promoted above her capability? Was her compensation tied to our output? Was her marriage dependent upon her success? What kinds of parental expectations was she feeling?

As the old adage goes, show me a controlling person and I’ll show you a fearful person.

Jesus frequently clashed with such people, whose fear came out in all sorts of destructive ways. And we notice that the best way he found to deal with them was not by emulating them or hitting back, but by finding security in his humanity.

Jesus knew who he was, whose he was, and constantly reminded himself of the perspective needed to remain healthy and human. Being human means embracing our limits more than fighting them. Being human means finding our deepest contentment, not in solving the mystery, but in living into it. Being human means we’re not God and should thus be content not achieving perfection.

Letting go of our urge to control begins with accepting our humanity – we know there’s a God, let her rule.

It’s as if our beloved Episcopal Church entered the Temple of institutional religion.

We reached for the scroll from Isaiah - the one that talks about the Spirit of the Lord being upon us and anointing us to bring good news to the captives and the oppressed. It boldly declares that God has sent us to proclaim release and freedom.

After we’ve read it to all who would hear, we sat down and calmly declared, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

That’s when the ruckus broke out. The institutional gatekeepers are hopping mad. Who knows where that anger will lead.

When the Episcopal Church decided, after decades of prayer, discernment, and open debate, that the full inclusion of all God’s people into the Christian fold was our challenge and calling, we knew this would bring liberty and joy to untold numbers of oppressed, persecuted, and downtrodden people. We also knew it would cause a ruckus in the Temple. And God only knows where that will lead.

Friends, taking a stand for what’s right is one of our deepest religious traditions. It is fearful. It is risky. It is not comfortable. But we have taken that stand in obedience to our higher calling. And so it is a time to hold tight to God, prayer, and each others’ hands, knowing that we are cared for and loved. And when all we can do is stand, to stand.

What’s more, we might even want to ask how this paradigm is living out in the microcosm of our daily lives. Dear Lord, for whom are we being asked to stick up in our home and work places? In what ways are we being called upon to stand up for the oppressed and the marginalized? Let your liberty and release flow through us, that our world might know, more deeply, your love.

There’s a humorous Islamic parable about a man who loses his keys in his house then goes outside to look for them.

“What are you doing?” asks his wife,

“Why aren’t you looking for your keys inside?”

“Oh,” says the man,

“The light is much better out here.”

How often we go looking for things in easy places! As we bypass the places where they may actually be found.

Think of the stereotypical drunk looking for happiness in alcohol (classified as a depressant no less!). Or love in a pick-up joint. Or weight loss at the ice cream store (frozen yogurt is only 100 calories!).

The ‘fast, fun, and easy’ have deep hooks in us. God only knows how they convince us that this is where we’ll find our keys…

That’s why, for a few chilly weeks each year, Christians try to pay particular attention to epiphanies. These are life’s small reminders that awaken us, and shed light on the truth all around. Epiphanies remind us of reality; they tell us we are loved and worth loving, we are at our best when we give to others, and we do well to look for our keys where we lost them.

This is Epiphany’s challenge: will we take the hard road to solving our problems? Will we realize that the best way is not the leisurely walk around, but to plow through? Will we take responsibility, accountability, and initiative? May the Light of revelation show us the way.

Years ago I was working for ABC in Los Angles and word went out that The Emmys needed volunteers.

I signed up.

When the day came, I found myself milling around the lobby before being approached by a starlet in a popular sitcom who clearly thought I was someone else. We chatted for a bit. She introduced me to a few of her friends who were going out for drinks. And I admit I was tempted to go along with the ruse. But I finally admitted I was not there to get an award, but to help with crowd control. My stock dropped quicker than Enron’s.

It can be so tempting to be who we’re not.

Yep, it’s fun pretending. But we know in our hearts, as our faith reminds us, that our deepest contentment will always come by being who we are. God often sends us epiphanies to help us do this. And in this liturgical season we open ourselves up to accepting the mirrors and spotlights that assist us in this deeply holy work.

Pray with me; Lord help me be, not who I want to be, but who you want me to be. For your kingdom comes as all your people play the parts you’ve given us. Help us to be content in ourselves and stop striving to be a poor imitation of someone else.