Trials and Transfiguration

Mark 9:2-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James, and John, and he led them up a high mountain, apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them and his clothes became a dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And they saw there Moses, with Elijah, talking with Jesus.

Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He didn’t know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them and a voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, the beloved; listen to him!” And when they looked around, they saw no one there except Jesus, himself, alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them not to tell anyone about what they had seen, until the Son of Man had been raised from the dead.

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I’m a sucker for “Before and After” stuff. You know what I’m talking about. A good home makeover on HGTV where someone transforms a goldenrod and avocado-colored kitchen from 1978 into a stainless steel and subway tiled jewel for the 21st Century. Or a weight-loss reel where a poor, pudgy, picked-on high schooler becomes a ripped, muscle-bound college kid in just over a year. Or anytime those “where are they now” things pop up and you can see what child-stars from your favorite old TV shows look like as grown-ups.

But the latest iteration of this “Before and After” fascination had me thinking a bit about Transfiguration Sunday and Jesus’ experience up on that mountain with Peter, James, John – and Moses and Elijah, too. Sadly, thanks to the power of Tik Tok and the proliferation of meth, heroine, and other drugs in our culture, the last few years, these “Befores and Afters” are much harder to look at. They show the damage and destruction these drugs can do in less time than a team of contractors can remodel a kitchen or a teenager can reshape and rebuild his body.

I was going to show you what I’m talking about, but decided against it. It didn’t seem right to exploit that kind of sadness and struggle, just to make my point. So trust me when I say – if you haven’t seen them – these pictures (which are actually a series of an individual’s mugshots, over time) show that in just a few months’ time – or a couple of years, maybe – fresh-faces get covered with open sores; bright eyes become bloodshot and vacant; beautiful smiles become smashed-out window panes; otherwise healthy bodies lose their hair and more weight than seems possible. And all of that, of course, is only what we can see changing on the outside.

And, it may be odd, but the reason this made me think of Jesus – and the Transfiguration moment on that mountaintop we just heard about – is because of the first three words we heard from Mark’s Gospel as part of that story: “Six days later…” “Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James, and John …” “Six days later…”

Even though this amazing, wonderful, miraculous thing happened up there on that mountain for and with those three lucky disciples, it didn’t happen in a vacuum. And if you check out what Jesus was up to six days EARLIER in Mark’s Gospel, it puts it all in a different kind of light.

See, we don’t know what happened in the meantime because that doesn’t seem important to whoever wrote Mark’s gospel. But, six days earlier, Jesus had had some pretty hard, holy conversations with his disciples. We’re told that, six days before today’s mountain-top experience, Jesus “began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” We’re told that six days earlier, “Peter took [Jesus] aside and began to rebuke him.” We know that Jesus then rebuked Peter and said “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

And we know that six days earlier, Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and gave them that hard, holy teaching: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” And he said, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?” And so on…

In other words, the you-know-what is about to hit the fan. Jesus and anyone who followed him – really followed him – were about to find themselves in some deep kimchi, as my high school history teacher, Mr. Huovinen liked to say. According to Jesus, this discipleship stuff; this “following me and fishing for people” business can be hard. It isn’t always pretty, or easy, or safe, or for the faint of heart, either.

And it makes me think about this thing we celebrate in the Transfiguration of Our Lord, and the way it might prepare us for the season of Lent that’s on the way – and for life in this world, really.

Because what happened “six days later” – where we find ourselves this morning – is that Jesus revealed himself to his closest friends as the next, and the best, and as the end in a line of the great prophets of their faith, like Moses and Elijah – the ones who showed up next to him on that mountain. What happened was that Jesus revealed himself in some larger-than-life way as the Messiah and as the Son of God and all of it was in preparation for what was coming next.

And, what was coming next for Jesus was even more unbelievable than what happened on that mountain – even with all of those ghosts, talking clouds, and dazzling white laundry. What was going to happen was that Jesus would be crucified. Jesus was about to share a meal with the rest of his disciples; he would be arrested; he would be denied and betrayed by these very same disciples, Peter, James, and John, just to name a few and then he would die a terrible death – whipped, beaten, mocked, spit upon, crowned with thorns, and nailed to a cross.

And all of this was even more unbelievable than what happened on that mountain, really. Why would God suffer? Why would someone who could heal anyone of anything not simply save himself from all of it right from the get-go? And why would Jesus ask the disciples to follow him through all of this only to die and leave them to deal with the emptiness, anger, pain, persecution, and grief that were sure to follow?

I think maybe God did all of that, in Jesus, because God knew that we would know so many people going through it. Or because God knew we would find ourselves going through it, at some point along the way. And we do, do we not – know people suffering and struggling in so many ways? Cancer and cardiac emergencies. Ugly divorces and dangerous relationships. Financial crises; mental health concerns; legal issues; struggles with aging; deep, abiding, grief; relentless addiction; fears, anxieties, and stresses too numerous to name.

So, “six days later,” six days after his hard, holy conversation about his own suffering and struggle, when Jesus orders the disciples not to tell anyone about what had happened on that mountaintop until after the Son of Man had been raised from the dead, I think maybe he wants them – and us – always to see the mountaintop of his Transfiguration, and the one of Easter’s resurrection, too – in connection with the suffering and struggle of our lives in this world. I think he was showing that God is with us in all of it; that God is not afraid of any of it.

I think he might be saying, just wait until you – and they – can see that I’m going through it, too. That we’re in this together. That we’ll all find ourselves coming down from the mountain tops now and again – deep into the valleys of life in this world, more often than we’d like.

Because whether you’re in the throes of a deep, dark addiction, being rocked by a relationship in ruins, or staring death in the face, this is where God does God’s best work – not just in miracles and magic and mountaintop experiences – but by coming down from the mountain, entering into the broken places, and making them whole; by finding what’s lost; by turning shadows into light; despair to hope; sin to forgiveness; by transforming death into new life, even, by a grace that’s hard to believe until you’ve seen it for yourself – which we will – all of us, by the love promised us in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen

The Asbury Revival and Transfiguration

Matthew 17:1-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.

Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”

When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

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Have you heard about the spiritual “revival” at Asbury University?

Asbury University is a private Christian school in Wilmore, Kentucky. It identifies as “non-denominational,” but has ties to the Wesleyan-Holiness movement. Which means, I think, that it’s inclined toward the Methodist institution, in not so many words.

Anyway, apparently they’re experiencing a surprising, unintended, unplanned, Holy Spirit-induced, good old-fashioned “revival,” there – and have been since a week ago, Wednesday as far as I could tell.

See, Wednesday is when Asbury University has its regularly-scheduled, weekly chapel, as many small, private, religiously affiliated undergraduate colleges and universities do. And at Asbury – like so many other schools – students are required to attend some number of these 10 a.m., Wednesday morning, chapel services each semester.

And last Wednesday, something odd happened.

After the benediction, when worship was supposed to be over; when, I’m guessing, students usually pull out their phones, put on their coats, and shuffle off to their next class, to the cafeteria for lunch, or back to bed … they didn’t leave. Many, or most, maybe all of them – students, professors, staff and worship leaders – just stayed.

They stuck around… singing quietly, praying like they meant it, reading Scripture, publicly confessing their sins, even. Small groups of prayer circles formed. People raised their arms in praise. Some knelt at the altar. Some prostrated themselves on the floor. According to those who’ve witnessed it, the space was filled with peace and quiet and music and joy and light and love and all the good vibes.

Ultimately, people began to come and go, but the praying and worshiping, reading and confessing continued. The place has been packed – standing room only – according to a professor of theology from the seminary across the street, who walked over so he could see it to believe it.

AND students have been showing up from other schools – the University of Kentucky, Ohio Christian, Lee University, Georgetown College, Mt. Vernon Nazarene University – Purdue and Indiana Wesleyan University, even – just to name a few. I saw some Asbury alumni from right here in New Pal posting about it on Facebook, too.

And I find it fascinating. My skeptical instincts, some of what I’ve read about it, and my limited experience with such things tempt me to be critical of it, but I’m not going there. It’s not something that ever happened in chapel when I was an undergrad – not that I would have been there to notice. (They didn’t take attendance at Capital University.) And if it’s all it’s cracked up to be for those who are experiencing it, more power to them.

Anyway, all of this lasted for at least a week – it was still happening until THIS Wednesday, anyway, when I sat down to start thinking about this sermon and about today and about what we call “Transfiguration Sunday” around here – an event, for what it’s worth, I would have been equally skeptical about back in the day.

Because it seems like a spiritual revival of sorts took place on that mountain with Jesus, Peter, James and John. Jesus took them up the mountain “after six days,” we’re told, which is another way of saying, “on the seventh day,” which means we’re supposed to draw some meaningful connections to what happened when Moses took a hike up another mountain, “on the seventh day” as we heard about in our first reading from Exodus. Moses came down with the Ten Commandments, remember, after a transformative, transfiguring moment of his own up on there on Mount Sinai.

And in order to make that connection even more clearly, the disciples see Jesus in conversation with Moses – and Elijah, too – as a sign and declaration of his prophetic status and succession as the Messiah… the next … and last … and final Word … worth listening to … as God’s Chosen One … anointed … beloved prophet of all prophets.

So, however and whatever happened up on that mountain with Jesus – by way of his face that shined like the sun and his dazzling white clothes, in the appearance of those ghosts from the past, that talking cloud, and God’s profound declarations about his belovedness – the point was to reveal for those carefully chosen disciples (Peter, James and John) that Jesus was something special; that he was worth listening to, learning from, and following.

And we’d like to imagine the disciples were changed by all of this – Peter, James and John, I mean. They were knocked to their knees by what they saw and heard, after all. They were filled with fear and awe at what they witnessed. Maybe they prostrated themselves, raised their hands in worship, maybe they prayed, silently or aloud. And, like the students, faculty and staff at Asbury University, last week, Peter wants them to stay … to make it all last: “Lord, if you wish, I’ll build three dwellings here; one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah, too.”

But, as great and holy as it was… as mighty and transformative as it seemed to be… that doesn’t happen. It doesn’t last for long. Jesus seems to nip it in the bud pretty quickly. He comes to the disciples, touches them – seemingly snaps them out of their spiritual shock and awe – and they head back down the mountain. And as they go, he tells them to keep all of this on the down low. He tells them not to tell anyone about any of it until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.

And this, for me, is where the lesson, the inspiration, the challenge and the hope about whatever happened on that mountaintop with Jesus and – whatever may be happening at Asbury University – matters. Because the lesson, inspiration, challenge and hope of whatever spiritual renewal or revival we’re looking for, longing for, or experiencing shows up in what happens as a result of it all.

Because what happens next for Jesus, as God’s beloved, anointed, chosen one, was even more surprising, unbelievable and awe-inspiring than what happened on that mountaintop.

He healed the sick and gave sight to the blind. He taught about loving the lost and forgiving without limit. He chastised and challenged the rich and the wealthy. He preached against the powerful. He talked politics and protested injustice. He overturned the tables in the temple.

And after all of that – because of all that, and more – Jesus gets crucified. He shares a meal with his friends; he is arrested; he is denied and betrayed by the closest of his followers – Peter, James and John, from this morning’s mountain, among them – and then he dies a horrible, humiliating, public and painful death – whipped, beaten, mocked, spit upon, crowned with thorns and nailed to a cross.

So, I kind of think Jesus is saying – on his way down the mountain this morning: “don’t go yapping about this mountaintop stuff – this little ‘transfiguration moment’ up here on the hill – unless or until it amounts to something; until you’re able to see and connect it with the rest of what’s to come.”

“Don’t talk about spiritual renewal or faithful transformation unless or until it leads to some measure of sacrifice, in your life, for the sake of others.”

“Don’t talk about spiritual revival or transfiguration unless or until it comes from – or leads to – a place of humility, justice, mercy and peace.”

“Don’t talk about spiritual renewal or faithful transformation unless or until it has something to do with a new way of living and moving and being in the world; unless or until something changes in you that does something to change the world around you.”

So, may whatever spiritual revival or renewal or transfiguration we seek as God’s people in this world inspire us not to stay put or to cling to the mountaintop moments of our lives for the sake of the mountaintop moments of our lives. But may renewal, revival and transfiguration fill us, inspire us and move us down from the mountain, beyond our sanctuary, off of our couches and out of our kitchens – to the lonely places, toward the least among us, in the face of the darkness and the powers that be, for the sake of a world that is ripe for the live-changing, life-giving hard, holy grace and good news that belong to us all in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen