Luke
9:28-43a
28
Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and
James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the
appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30
Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared
in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish
at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but
since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with
him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is
good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for
Moses, and one for Elijah"—not knowing what he said. 34 While he was
saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as
they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said,
"This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" 36 When the voice had spoken,
Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any
of the things they had seen. 37 On the next day, when they had come down from
the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38 Just then a man from the crowd shouted,
"Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39 Suddenly a
spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams
at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40 I begged your
disciples to cast it out, but they could not." 41 Jesus answered,
"You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you
and bear with you? Bring your son here." 42 While he was coming, the demon
dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit,
healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. 43 And all were astounded at
the greatness of God.
A
few summers ago, seventeen of us boarded a plane bound for the city of Port-au-Prince,
Haiti. I still remember what it was like after we got off that plane: the musty
airport that felt more like an old greyhound station, the people rushing past
us, the people stopping to “help” us with our bags, the sudden realization that
we were in another country—that we were the foreigners. I can still see in my
mind that ocean of people outside the doors of the airport, a seemingly endless
pool of people, all crowded together, hoping to earn a few dollars from those
making their way from the airport. There was the ride to the school where we
were staying in the back of a blue truck, with makeshift benches lining the
sides; it felt more like a cage than cabin. We drove over the rough roads of
that beaten country, passing people burning palm trees to make charcoal, women
carrying naked babies and pieces of fruit in their arms, men sitting
cross-legged on the sidewalk trying to sell what most of us would consider
garbage. Then there was the smell, some sort of combination of compost, smoke,
and sewage.
We
stayed in a school building made of concrete right in the center of the city,
surrounded by other half-crumbled buildings, tents, and lean-tos. In the week
we were there, we witnessed some pretty heartbreaking things, malnourished
children, sick parents, discouraged families living in groups in abandoned
buildings…but we also witnessed some pretty wonderful things.
We
stayed at a school where children were learning, where they were being fed,
where they had a safe place to sleep. We worshipped with brothers and sisters
who still found joy in the gathering together of the faithful. We experienced
miracles as we fed hundreds of children when it seemed like we wouldn’t have
enough to feed them all. We glimpsed heaven as we sat around tables in a
crowded room drinking Coke and Fruit Champagne from glass bottles, eating the
best mangos and spaghetti one could ever eat in a place like that. It wasn’t
all overwhelming, third-world discouragement; most of it was downright
heavenly.
I
can remember sitting on the roof of the school one night, when the breeze was
cool. Everyone else was downstairs, winding down for the night. The power was
out, as it went off every afternoon before dark except our last night there. The
air was filled with the sound of dogs barking, what we all assumed was an
all-night church service going on somewhere in the city, and an occasional car
or motorcycle growling by. The moon was bright and directly overhead; I
remember it looked as if the sky was just a series of concentric circles of
fading light around it. I had this enormous sense of peace, as if all was right
with the world, and things were as they should be. I closed my eyes and
remember thinking (as I later wrote down in my journal): “I wish I could feel
this way all the time, that I could just stay right here, in this moment, at
peace.” Then there was a loud bang—maybe a car backfired, or someone slammed
one of the big metal gates closed—and I came to my senses.
There
are still children living in that school who need food and an education,
especially now as the country of Haiti has been experiencing so much
uncertainty and political unrest. There are still families living in sewage.
There are still those who are cast out and marginalized who need to be told
they are loved. All is not peaceful, all is not right with the world, and
things are not as they should be. We have to come out of our comfort comma,
snap out of our sense of serenity, we have to come down off the mountain every once
and a while so that we can do what we’re called to do, because I’m convinced
that the life of faith to which Christ calls us is a life lived down off the
mountain.
You
see, when Jesus took James, John, and Peter up the mountain with him, he took
them (verse 28 tells us) to pray.
Jesus is heading towards Jerusalem—we’re heading towards Jerusalem with the
start of Lent next week—ultimately towards Calvary and the cruelest of deaths
upon a cross. On the way, he and his disciples will encounter adversaries, challenges,
overwhelming and heartbreaking situations—they need prayer! They need these
respites of prayer, times when they can come together to listen to the heart of
God and ask for courage, wisdom, and patience. While they are praying, however,
Jesus is transfigured before them: “the appearance of his face changed, and his
clothes became dazzling white.” Not only is Jesus’ divine nature
revealed, but he’s joined by the spokespersons for the Law and the Prophets: “Suddenly
they saw two men, Moses and Elijah [how they knew it was Moses and
Elijah? I don’t really know aside from it maybe being more than a bit obvious],
talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure [lit.
“exodus], which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” Moses and
Elijah are speaking with Jesus about his work in Jerusalem, his death, burial
and resurrection.
Now,
we’re told that Peter, James, and John were all sleepy, but they were fully
awake when they saw all of this transfiguring and appearing going on. Then, in verse 33: “Just as [Moses and Elijah] were leaving [Jesus], Peter said to Jesus, ‘Master,
it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for
Moses, and one for Elijah’—not knowing what he said.” Peter (and
presumably, James and John) are caught up in the glory and awe of what they
just witnessed. They want to stay up on the mountain, set up some tents for
Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, have an extended prayer meeting, just the six of them,
have a little revival there, maybe a private spiritual retreat where they can
study the scriptures more. After all, how could it get any better than this:
Jesus, Moses, AND Elijah…together…in one place? I imagine in that moment, in
that place, for them, it seemed as if all was right with the world, as if they
were in the best place they could ever hope to be, as if it couldn’t possibly
be any better than it was right then. They were caught up in this glorious
moment of divine revelation…and then, a bang! A voice, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen
to him!”
I think it’s worth noting
that in this moment of devotional desire, this wish for worship, the very voice
of God declares to Christ’s followers Jesus’ identity as God’s Son AND commands them to worship him?
adore him? quote him? paint his picture and hang it over their fireplaces at
home? No! The voice of God commands the followers of Christ to LISTEN
TO HIM! And that’s more than just hearing the sound of his voice
and saying, “That’s a pretty good idea.” It’s about hearing Jesus’ words and
putting them to action! It’s a wakeup call to the three disciples on the
mountain with Jesus, especially in light of what takes place when they come
down from the mountain.
“On
the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him.
Just then a man from the crowd shouted, ‘Teacher, I beg you to look at my son;
he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks.
It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely
leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.’"
I wonder who pointed the first finger. Can’t you just imagine it? “I begged
your disciples to do it, but they couldn’t.” “Oh, he didn’t ask me, Jesus…I’m
not sure who he asked, but it wasn’t me…well we figured he was just trying to
take advantage of us…we figured his son was just putting on, or maybe he was
strung out on something…” I can hear them now, denying the man’s claims, saying
that he never asked, or that they were just being cautious, not wanting to be
taken advantage of by folks who knew them to be Jesus-followers.
I can hear them, because
I’ve said things like that myself: “Well, you can’t ever be too careful. You
know, you help some folks and if you help them once, they’ll be right back next
month with another sob story…you know, I don’t think they’re really even that
bad off; did you see that expensive phone she had in her purse…did you see how
he pulled up in that car with those big shiny wheels on it?” Sometimes it’s
hard to come down off the mountain, because we’re afraid we can’t trust anyone
to be honest with us, but Jesus said one time somewhere: “Give to everyone who begs from
you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again.”[1]
Then, the voice of God says to us, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen
to him!"
Of course, the man who
they meet at the bottom of the mountain, his story is a heartbreaking one. His
only son is possessed by a demon that causes him to shriek, convulse, foam at
the mouth, and injure himself with violent seizures and spells of
self-mutilation. It’s an overwhelming case to be sure. He says, “I
begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Who could
blame them? Perhaps they wept with the man, prayed with him, and then said,
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing else we can do.” Maybe they tried to cast out
the demon, tried to heal the boy, but the situation was so dire, so pitiful
that their emotions got the best of them, and they came to the realization that
the only hope was a miracle—and they themselves weren’t the source of miracles.
I’ve been there before,
standing by the hospital bed, the sound of the ventilator and the beeping of
monitors like the ticking hands of life’s clock. I’ve been there, as loved ones
beg for a change in condition, a glimmer of hope that their son, sister, father
will come out of this, and in the weight of that grief, all I could muster to
say was, “I’ll pray for you.” It’s a comfort to know someone is praying for
you, but when you’re at the end of the rope, when there’s no other option
seemingly left, and you’re looking for a miracle…it’s hard, but Jesus said one
time somewhere: “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the
works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these,”[2]
and the voice says, "This is my Son…listen to him!"
Life down from the
mountain is hard; it’s real.
It’s full of complications, contradictions, adversities, overwhelming and
heartbreaking situations, but the life of faith is a life lived down from the
mountain. Yes, there are times when we need to meet on the mountain, when we
need to gather for worship, for prayer, for encouragement and guidance. Those
times (times like this morning) are a vital part of the life of a
Christ-follower, but if all we do is hunker down where we are comfortable,
where we are safe, where all seems
right with the world and we
are at peace…well then friends, I’m afraid we aren’t listening to Jesus! For
Christ came down from the mountain, and Christ calls us to follow him down from
the mountain, out the doors of the sanctuary, and into the world—not to condemn
it, but to save it. To share the good news of a loving God in Christ Jesus, to
give food to those who are hungry, drink to those who are thirsty, clothes to
those who are naked, comfort to those who are afflicted, justice to those who
are oppressed, to bring God’s kingdom on Earth as it is in heaven. And friends,
we cannot do that if we just build tabernacles and stay up on the mountain!
If Christ’s
transfiguration teaches us anything, I think it’s this: Yes, Christ is fully
God, and in that confession we must also confess that God has come down to us
to show us the way of true love, to show us the way of God’s kingdom. Because
Jesus said many times, somewhere: "You shall love the Lord your God with
all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the
greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your
neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments hang all the law and the
prophets."[3]
And the voice of God speaks to us today: "This is my Son…listen to him!"
Amen.
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