On the Feast of the Epiphany, we are drawn once again to a familiar and beautiful image: the Magi kneeling before the Child Jesus, offering Him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These were costly gifts, carefully chosen, worthy of a king. But more than their material value, these gifts revealed something deeper, the hearts of those who gave them.
A gift, by its very nature, carries the value of the giver. It is never just the object that matters, but the love, sacrifice, and intention behind it. And this raises a very personal question for each one of us today, what is my gift to God?
Surely, it is not something merely worldly. God has no need of our possessions, our status, or our achievements. All these already belong to Him. What God desires is something far more difficult to give, ourselves.
As persons, what we truly place before God is our character, our conscience, the way we choose what is right over what is easy. Many of us may not have much to offer in terms of wealth or influence. But we all possess something precious: the simple principles we learned early in life, the “kindergarten truths” we were taught as children, to tell the truth, to do what is right, to be fair, to be kind, and to stand firm even when it is difficult. In a world that constantly pressures us to compromise, these simple truths become a rare and costly gift.
The Magi did not offer what was convenient; they offered what was valuable. And after encountering Christ, they were changed. The Gospel tells us that they returned home by another way. When truth is revealed, life cannot remain the same. To give a gift to God is to allow ourselves to be transformed by Him.
Today, our world is deeply tempted by materialism. Success is measured by possessions, happiness by comfort, and goodness by popularity. We are told that being liked is more important than being right, and that truth should bend to avoid conflict. But Epiphany reminds us that the light of Christ exposes these illusions.
Our gift to God, then, may be this: a conscience that refuses to be sold, a heart that holds on to what is true, and the courage to do what is right even when it costs us friendships, comfort, or approval. This is not an easy gift to give. It demands sacrifice. It demands humility. It demands faith.
Sometimes, the only thing we can place before God is our honest effort to remain faithful to tell the truth, to act justly, and to love without pretending. That, too, is a worthy offering.
Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were laid before a Child who had nothing of this world. In the same way, when we come before God today, may we offer not what is impressive, but what is genuine. May we give Him the best of ourselves: our integrity, our sincerity, and our steadfast commitment to what is right.
For in the end, brothers and sisters, the greatest gift we can offer God is a life lived in truth. And that gift, though hidden from the world, shines brightly in the eyes of God.