Don't Miss the Trip--A Transfiguration Sermon

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Have you ever missed a trip? At one time or another we all have. But my question is more far-reaching than that. Will you miss the trip. Max Lucado* tells the story of a businessman  who was sitting in a plane waiting to take off. He was in 14D—a woman next to him was in  14E. She was obviously pretty country with her purple velour pants suit. He was from the city—Brooks Brothers suit and all.  From her talk he could tell she was pretty cornpone. He was sophisticated, sitting there with his aluminum briefcase, laptop and I-phone. The woman looked pretty old.

It was obvious that she had never been on a plane before. “I don’t do this much,” she grinned. “Do You?” He’d nodded. “Oh,” she said, “that must be a lot of fun.” He groaned. It was going to be a long flight. He was in the middle of a hectic week, his plane was late and overbooked. He had already stood in a long line and didn’t get enough sleep the night before. 

She looked out the window and squealed, “Ooooh—look at that big lake.” He just wished she would shut up. She volunteered that she was going to Dallas to see her boy., “I hope he’s OK. He had the flu last week And he’s got a new dog. A black Lab. I can’t wait to see the dog—his name is Skipper.”

People turned around in their seats to stare. The man next to her just wanted to crawl under the seat.  The flight attendant came by asking what they wanted to drink. He asked for a Diet coke. She asked a second time about the choices. When her drink came she said that she didn’t know that apple juice came in cans—it was delicious. And when the sandwich came she said out loud: “Why there’s even mayonnaise in here—and salt and pepper and a cookie!”

This went on the whole flight. She missed nothing. She opened the airline magazine and oozed and ahed. She tried to adjust the overhead light and pushed her seat way back. She loved the lunch. He thought it tasted like cardboard.

When the plane finally landed, she turned and said, “Now wasn’t that as fun trip?” As he watched her collect her sacks and belonging and shuffle down the aisle—it suddenly hit him. Why was it that she had that he didn’t have? What was it that she knew that he didn’t get? She had enjoyed the whole trip while he was just miserable. Like most of the others on that plane.

In Matthew 17 Jesus took three disciples up, up to the top of a mountain. It was midpoint in

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Jesus’ journey. The clouds were already hanging low over his ministry. The Pharisees and Sadducees were making it hard. His disciples kept bickering. Word came from his Mama: “Why don’t you just come home.” He began to talk to his followers about dark things like suffering and Jerusalem and a cross.  He talked to them about saving their lives by losing them. 

And so Jesus took Peter, James and John with him up the hill. They went to the top of Mount Hermon which was 9,100 feet high. And there on that mountaintop something happened. It as strange and hard to put into words. Later when they wrote the story down they called it transfiguration. Moses and Elijah appeared. Jesus’ face shone like they had never seen it. And God spoke. God. He said the same thing he had said at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my beloved son…Do not be afraid.” They were dumbfounded and it turned them inside out. Looking back later they would say that day on the mountain changed their lives. They were never quite the same. Simon Peter had wanted to stay there forever. What a feeling. Let’s just build three temples and stay here. But Jesus shook his head. The vision faded. Moses and Elijah left as quickly and they had come. And Jesus led his three friends down, down that winding mountain.

In verse nine Jesus called what had happened that day a vision. Scholars use the big word: theophany—a visitation for God. And the disciples would tell it over and over until it found its way into every gospel. That day, that special day when God came down and they beheld his glory. It took their breath away. 

Maybe you’re wondering what does this story of that little woman and man on the plane have to do with this Transfiguration story?  Everything.

There comes a time when we have to disengage. From time to time we activists jus need to stop, look and listen. Not to do anything—but just be there. That is a a pretty hard thing for most of us to do—just stand there. We think we’ve always got to be doing something. After I retired people would come up and say, “Now that you are retired what are you doing?” And I would think: doing? What do you think retirement is supposed to be. 

A couple of years ago there was this T-shirt that said: “Jesus is coming back—look busy.” There’s more truth in those words than we let on. The man on the plane missed the joy of his journey because he was drowning in busy-ness. The woman next to him was able to focus on the moment. She was present. We can’t enjoy the trip if everything all runs together—we need some pauses.

Robert Fulghum tells about this woman so stressed out she went to see a psychiatrist.  After listening to her story, the doctor wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. She took it to the drug store and gave it to the pharmacist. He read it and gave it back to her. “I can’t fill this—but you can.” She read it: “Spend one hour some Sunday watching the sunrise while walking in a cemetery.” And she got in touch with her life. She saw the sun coming  up—really saw it. She heard the birds sing. She looked around at the green trees and grass—and it reset the lenses of her life. There comes a time when we all have to push back and disengage. Isn't this what the season of Lent is supposed to be about?

I think this story also says: We are to open our eyes. The woman on the plane saw. Everything. The man was blind,. Peter, James and John would tell the others later that on top of that mountain it was hard to put it into words but it was like their eyes were opened for the first time. Why, they said we saw things we never saw before.

People are always handing preachers books. And sometimes we just groan. But I looked at the title of this book somebody gave me. A Touch of Wonder. Dear God, I remember thinking, I need that. I need that bad: some wonder. It doesn’t happen every day—but we all need some transfiguring experiences when we step aside what we never saw before. 

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Look out your window. Look. The woman across the street carefully comes down the steps to get her paper. Her arthritis is killing her. She lives alone. She lost her husband four years ago and her sister died last week. I wonder how she’s doing? Look out the window. There are workmen next door finishing a house. They’re laughing. Laughing. Look out there window. A man walks down the street with two dachshunds—he’s smiling. Out that window the trees are just beginning to bud out. And the sky is a blue. II Peter 1.16 says: “We have been eyewitnesses to the majesty.” What a wonderful thing to say. Now I wish those telemarketers would quit calling. I wish my back didn’t hurt—or I don’t have to go to the grocery store. I better get up from here and pay these bills. No. Pay attention. The majesty is all around us. Isn't that what the season of Lent is supposed to be about?

One of the things that happens is that when our perspective changes—we see the big picture. What is this big picture? Well, when that dazzling experience was over what happened? The book says: they saw Jesus only. They remembered.  God said Jesus was his beloved. They remembered  later that God had said you don’t have to be afraid. They remembered that even if they suffered—and they would—God was in it. They remembered that even if things did not work out the way they wanted—and so often wouldn’t—still: God is in it. They began to see this whole thing was larger than they ever imagined. This Jesus. God’s voice. His calling them. God was in it.

After I moved away from Clemson I was invited back to the 100th Anniversary of the church and had a great time. As I started to leave a member of the centennial committee said they were putting together a video of different pastors and their experiences while they were at the church. Not wanting to miss being a video star I agreed to let them interview me. What did you learn from your time here.? They asked. I thought and said: You know one of the lessons I am still trying to learn is that we have to look at the big picture. The big picture. Not the little picture. That irate member. That stain on the carpet. That screaming baby back there. The sagging budget. Why has Mrs. so-and-so quit coming? I said in the video that I spent too much time on the little things that don’t matter. I can’t even remember all those little things that kept we awake at night. We all have to look at the big picture.  If we really do believe what we say we do—we have to remember faith says it is going to be all right. Whatever happens we don’t have to be afraid. It’s going to be all right. 

So they came down the mountain with Jesus. And they didn't think about what happened to them until later. But God was there--in it. And God would even be there when they put Jesus on trial and nailed him to the cross. And God will be with us despite the cancers and the divorces and the time spent in AA and the depression that sometimes takes over. Even crazy Washington. God is here. Here. 

l wonder when the church put the lectionary together they put the Transfiguration story right before the beginning of Lent. And what it says is that God really is here. So let us open our eyes. Who knows we, too might just be eyewitnesses to the majesty. And if that happens—we can take whatever comes. Isn't that what Lent is all about?

*Story found in Max Lucado's, the Eye of the Storm (Dallas: Word, 1991) pp.61-63

photo by Erik Brockdorff  /  flickr

(Sermon preached at the First Presbyterian Church, Pendleton, SC, February 11, 2018)

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com