II Peter 1:16-19; Matthew 17:1-8; Exodus 24:12-18

Transfiguration Sunday

Exodus 24:12-18

¹² The Lord said to Moses, “Come up to me on the mountain, and wait there; and I will give you the tablets of stone, with the law and the commandment, which I have written for their instruction.” ¹³ So Moses set out with his assistant Joshua, and Moses went up into the mountain of God. ¹⁴ To the elders he had said, “Wait here for us, until we come to you again; for Aaron and Hur are with you; whoever has a dispute may go to them.” ¹⁵ Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. ¹⁶ The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. ¹⁷ Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. ¹⁸ Moses entered the cloud, and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.

Matthew 17:1-8

{1} Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. ² And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. ³ Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. ⁴ 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.” ⁵ 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!” ⁶ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. ⁷ But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” ⁸ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

II Peter 1:16-19

¹⁶ For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. ¹⁷ For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, “This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” ¹⁸ We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.

¹⁹ So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.

The Sermon

It wasn’t enough that we knew we were not measuring up.

It wasn’t enough that when he talked about God, and talked about (and showed us) what life is about, and told us, in his words and his actions, what it means for a human being to have a place in the universe—it wasn’t enough that when he spoke about all these things, we already felt like we had been very, very dim.

No, that wasn’t enough. He led us up to the mountaintop. And what happened there had not happened, we knew, since Moses “ came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand,” and he didn’t know that “the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.”

And now, as we stood there, Jesus was transfigured before us, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.

It wasn’t enough that so much of our darkness was exposed by his gleaming radiance every day. Now, he stood before us, incandescent, like the brightest star in the universe.

Up to that point, we had been shrugging our shoulders a lot—not in his presence, necessarily.

But he would speak to us with such profound love, that rattled the cages of our souls, and awakened within us voices of song that had long lain dormant.

And at the time, we would be so overwhelmed with wonder, and awe, and joy—and I mean it about joy: not in some quote-unquote “religious” sense, like on a Christmas card or something, but I mean real joy. We felt it; it was visceral, but it was also deeply emotional and true.

But then he would pass from our presence. I know he’s divine and all that, but every human being—and he was one—needs a nap or a snack or a potty break once in a while. And as we sat there when he stepped out of the room, or when we would lie under the stars at night while he was off somewhere alone, praying, we’d kind of look at each other and shrug our shoulders.

We’d say to each other, “I feel so small when he talks—so inadequate.” Or somebody would say, “When he’s telling us these things, I spend the whole time thinking to myself, ‘Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t I already know that? Or since I did already know it, why have I not been living my life that way?’”

And then we’d do that thing to let ourselves and each other off the hook—just shrug. “Ehh.” Of course we wouldn’t have been living that way, thinking that way, talking that way, treating others the way we ought to. We’re human. We’re only human.

Maybe he had seen us shrugging our shoulders a little too often.

And so, on this day, the three of us were asked to go with him—we were kind of the inner circle; I don’t know how we got that status, but nobody was surprised that it was us three who went with him. We just accepted that we were in the center of his circle.

Not long after we reached the summit, it happened. And then in the midst of all that light, we saw Moses and Elijah, talking with him.

And Peter—God bless Peter—Peter got this wonderful idea: “Lord, this is great! Let me make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

Hey, why not? You see a lightning bug, you go get an empty mayonnaise jar and get ‘im in there! “Mom! Look! Check it out! Now I’ve got him!”

Peter’s idea didn’t immediately strike me as childish or naïve. You get that moment, you want to hang on to it. And what better way to do that than to build some boxes and put away what now belongs to you?

I’m interested that there are at least three images that stand out here. One is Jesus suddenly becoming visually iridescent.

Another is the appearance of the greatest prophets in our long history—both long centuries dead.

The third is the three booths, the three boxes that Peter wanted to build.

Of those three images, two came from God. They weren’t explained to us; they weren’t introduced to us. They just happened; and with our jaws open, we watched what God did.

But the third one came from one of us, and of the three, that’s the one that didn’t even happen. God showed us the transfiguration and the prophets. But our great idea? Nothing came of it.

I wonder how many good, faithful people and good, faithful churches have come up with what seemed at the time like great ideas—rational, doable, and conceived for holding on to something long-term—only to see them come to nothing, because they had nothing to do with the divine revelation that was right there, being showered upon them.

It doesn’t mean, “Don’t try anything; don’t think of anything, don’t build anything.”

It means listen and pray, attentively and carefully, so that whatever shelter you would build for God does not become a means of trying to contain God’s creative and surprising Spirit, but of serving God’s eternal purpose of bringing light into darkness. It was the first formative act in the creation of this inconceivably vast universe, and it is repeated daily in billions of lives all over the world: a little hope offered, a promise renewed, a comforting presence felt.

Sometimes, he will be for us a million-watt klieg light that bathes our lives in brightness and clarity. We can see the footprints in the sand; we see the fingerprints where God has brought all things together for good for those who love God; we see the fine needlework where God has stitched together the torn and tattered fabric of our lives and relationships.

But sometimes, it’s not that well lit.

Most of the time, we consider ourselves happy enough just to be able to trudge with him up the mountain, and wait for something to happen—some indication that we haven’t been forgotten, that we’re moving in the right direction, or any direction at all.

Whether our mountaintop experience is a resounding revelation, booming across the universe to enlighten our tiny eyes; or it’s just another day of watching and waiting in faithful hope, there will be a little light there. A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.

It wasn’t enough that our darkness was exposed by the gleaming radiance of what he did, and whom he touched, and how he loved everyone, every day. Now, he stood before us, his face shining like the sun, his clothes dazzling white.

And at last, we could finally see.

To be in his presence is to be bathed in light. When he feeds people miraculously, we visualize—we see—that we can feed hungry people without waiting for a miracle. We just do it.

When he teaches us to love the world so extravagantly—“wastefully” as I’ve heard it said—that we even love our enemies, we know that in the everyday encounters of our everyday lives, we can be more about love than hate; more about care than judgment; more about providing than withholding; more about sharing that hoarding; more about humility than self-righteousness.

In that overwhelming light, even in our dark little places, even in the long silent nights of worry, the heartbreaking moments of sorrow and loss, a light shines in the darkness.

He is the one transfigured. But in his light, we can be transformed.

And so, we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.

Keith Grogg

Carolina Beach Presbyterian Church

Carolina Beach , NC

February 3, 2008