Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there are
some standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God”
(Luke 9:27). Now, if you were listening,
you know that verse wasn’t in the Gospel reading we just heard. Instead, it comes just before it in Luke’s
story. “Truly I tell you,” Jesus said, “there
are some here who will not taste death before they see” what the kingship of
God, the sovereignty of God, actually looks like. Keep that thought in mind as we move along
this morning.
We’re celebrating the Feast of the
Transfiguration today, and it’s one of those scriptural stories that sort of
loses its punch with over-telling. Many
of us have heard it too many times; it’s become commonplace. But if you happen to be someone who hasn’t heard this story very often – or
maybe never heard it before today – I wonder how it strikes you?
Let’s look at a few key words and phrases. We’re told Jesus and his three closest
disciples go “up on the mountain to pray” (Luke 9:28). They go away to the place, in Scripture and
still today, where people often go when they’re seeking a deep encounter with
God – up on the mountaintop. OK, there’s
our setting.
Then, there’s this phrase: Jesus’ “face was changed, and his clothes
became dazzling white” (9:29). Clearly,
something’s happened up on the mountain, something otherworldly and
mysterious.
Then we hear, “Suddenly … Moses and Elijah
were talking to” Jesus, appearing in “glory” (9:30,31). OK, so a strange situation has just gotten
seriously weird, as long-dead religious heroes suddenly appear out of nowhere. And what they talk about seems strange,
too: Jesus’ upcoming “departure” at
Jerusalem – and, even stranger, the word for “departure” in Greek is exodus (9:31). We’ve heard that before.
Meanwhile, the disciples are drifting in
and out of sleep in their meditative state up on the mountain – not sure what’s
real and what’s not, not sure whether they ought to do something to make this
mystical moment last, like notes scribbled in a dream journal. Soon enough, it becomes clear they’re not
dreaming after all. A dark cloud comes
and overwhelms them, and the disciples are “terrified” as the cloud swallows
them up (9:34). Finally, to freak them
out completely, the very voice of God booms from the dark cloud, thundering,
“This is my Son, my Chosen, my Beloved; listen to him!” (9:35). And suddenly, Jesus and the disciples are standing
there alone. I imagine the disciples are
looking for somewhere to run.
This is not a happy little Bible story.
This is a terrifying encounter with the sovereign Lord of the universe. And it’s made even more terrifying for the
disciples as they come to realize that the guy they hang out with, their leader,
their teacher, their rabbi – he’s a whole lot more than that, sharing directly
in God’s terrifying glory.
And as they keep reflecting on all this, I
imagine it becomes even more confusing still.
God’s voice had thundered, “Listen to him!” But, you know, Jesus didn’t have anything to
say in this story. No grand
proclamations. Not a single word,
actually. So, Peter and James and John
might have wondered, what were we supposed to listen to?
Well, rewind the story a bit. The last thing Luke describes before this
account of the Transfiguration is one of those moments – maybe the supreme moment – of Jesus tellin’ it
like it is. He asks his friends, “Who do
the crowds say that I am?” (9:18). And
then he asks, “Who do you say that I am?” (9:20). Peter gets the answer right, though he hasn’t
really understood it yet. He says, “You’re
‘the messiah of God’” (9:20) – which for them meant, “You’re the one God has
anointed to be king of Israel, the one who will bring back God’s direct rule of
our land, just like the good ol’ days of David and Solomon.” Jesus basically says, “Yes … and no.” He gives them the deep mystery of messiahship
– that being God’s anointed king means he “will undergo great suffering, and be
rejected by [the religious leaders], and be killed, and on the third day be
raised” (9:22). And then, he hits his friends in the gut with the mystery they’ll spend
their lives trying to live into: “If any
want to become my followers,” Jesus says, “let them deny themselves, and take
up their cross daily, and follow me. For
those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life
for my sake will save it.” (9:23-24)
This truth comes directly from God’s beloved Son. “Listen to him!” boomed the voice from the
cloud.
So, if you’re hearing this story with
fresh ears, let me ask: Are you scared
yet?
* *
* *
Well, it’s summertime. These are supposed to be lazy days of
relaxing and reading on the beach – or at least cooling off at the local
pool. So every summer, in my mind’s eye,
I go back to Meador Park pool in Springfield, Missouri. Meador Park was about 2 miles from my house
growing up; and once I reached the age of emancipation for a kid in Springfield
in the 1970s, which was about 10 years old, my parents let me ride my bike to
the pool by myself. It was a different
day. I had no fear, as a boy, going off
to the swimming pool by myself – apparently neither did my parents. So I’d go and swim, maybe meet friends that
day, maybe not, but definitely revel in the freedom and relaxation of summer.
One day, I met up with some friends. And as boys do, we started bragging about
what we could do in the water – how long we could hold our breath, how deep we
could dive, how far we could swim. It moved
quickly into dares, and the dares moved quickly to the last place I wanted to
go: the high dive.
Now, I know this will shock you, but I
wasn’t exactly an athlete as a kid. Nor
was I particularly coordinated. And I
hated getting water up my nose. And I’d
never jumped off the high dive.
Ever. To me, the high dive at
Meador Park pool was about 100 feet tall, like a circus scene from a Bugs Bunny
cartoon. Probably not, actually; but it
sure felt that way.
So you know how this story goes. After the obligatory posturing of 10-year-old
boys negotiating a dare, I found myself climbing the ladder up the high
dive. I got to the top. And I walked slowly out, feeling the board
quiver harder and harder the farther out I stepped. I walked to the end.
And I stood there. And I stood there. And I stood there. And the longer I stood there, the worse it
got. The longer I stood there, the
higher the high dive became.
* *
* *
In a few minutes, three babies and their
families are going to gather around this tiny pool here in the chancel. It’s not a very imposing sight, really. There’s not much water there. But let me tell you, that water’s got
power. Because in that tiny pool is the
water of life … and death … and new life in Christ.
As newborns, we burst from the womb’s primordial
waters, overcoming blood and pain before we even gasp our first breath. So water is life … but it’s also death. In these lazy, hazy days of summer, we always
hear of boating accidents and drownings; and we know, even if we don’t like to
admit it, that the difference between life and death in the water is
razor-thin. So water is death … but it’s
also new life. Soon these three young
people, and the adults who’d give their lives for them, will be asked to jump
off the high dive into this tiny pool. The
stakes are high because in that water, yes, we do die. “In it, we are buried
with Christ in his death,” as we’ll pray before the baptisms. But just as surely, and so much more
powerfully, “By it, we share in his resurrection. [And] through it, we are reborn by the Holy
Spirit.” (BCP 306) Rising out of that pool, we are reborn as
members of the family of God. Rising out
of that pool, we are washed clean of every stain. Rising out of that pool, we are clothed in
the garments of transcendent glory, like Jesus on the mountaintop; and we are sealed
with the oil that’s anointed prophets and kings as we join Jesus as members of his
royal priesthood.
And as we rise from that water, born
again, we hear the voice of the risen Lord whose company of disciples we join. We hear him commission us for service in the
reign and rule of God: “If any want to
become my followers, let them deny themselves, and take up their cross daily,
and follow me. For those who want to
save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will
save it.”
As the songwriter Marcus Mumford sings:
In these bodies we
will live; in these bodies we will die.
Where you invest
your love, you invest your life.
Awake my soul –
For you were made to meet your maker.1
As you stand at the end of the high dive,
are you ready to take the plunge? Come
on in. The water’s fine.
1. Mumford & Sons. “Awake My Soul.” Sigh No
More. 2009.
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