Changed by His Glory
Sunday, February 3rd, 2008
Last of Epiphany/Transfiguration Sunday
Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton VA
Matthew 17:1-9
Theme: The transforming power of the Lordship of Christ

1Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. 3Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4Then 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.” 5While 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!” 6When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. 7But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” 8And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. 9As 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.”

This is a safe place to come, isn’t it?

When you walk in the door on Sunday mornings, or Wednesday evenings, on some level you breathe sigh of relief and relax … because … you’re home, you’re among family, you are with people you care about and who care about you. You are where you know what to expect, right?

After all, the whole “worship, church, Sunday school” atmosphere – they’ve been a part of our lives in most cases … our ENTIRE lives. We have a Sunday morning routine, and if we stick to it, it helps us mark our days. We have some sense of the passage of time, even if it involves becoming aware of how others in our family of faith are wrestling – as we have at one point or another – with the frailty of the human body. That has been made patently clear to us in the last week and weeks through the experiences of our brother Elwood, and our sisters Jean and Doris Jean.

So we come to church to seek some sense of reassurance that we are on the right path, that we are heading in the right direction, that whatever may have happened in the intervening 6 days, we are still, to a greater or lesser extent, heading TOWARDS God and not AWAY from God.

As a college student, for a couple of years I took a break from the familiar and visited unfamiliar churches – attended services that were to a degree similar to what I’d grown up with, but were equally different. On several occasions I and my roommates visited the Assembly of God Church in town. One of my roommates had been … smitten … and I don’t mean that in any negative sense – by the charismatic movement that was sweeping through American Christendom in the late 70’s and early 80’s. They were opportunities to explore the different expressions of faith that we enjoy here in the States.

It also happened to coincide with an exploration that was taking place internally in MY life – my pilgrimage of faith – where I was able to study, not in an academic sense, but in more of an experiential sense – how I wanted my faith to impact my life – or indeed if I even WANTED it to.

What I came away with from those services in the charismatic tradition was … exhaustion, to be honest. To one who was unaccustomed to the level of emotionalism and spiritual ecstasy that you are capable of experiencing in a charismatic worship service, I was usually completely wrung OUT by the time the service was over. The emotion, the energy, the life-changing decisions that took place in those services were draining in the best sense of the word … but I wondered how one could maintain that level of engagement over a protracted – an extended – period of time. There are only so many times that you can fall on your face, lay prone on the floor, and ask God to forgive your wretched lack of self-control before it too becomes more of a performance than a true expression of repentance.

That, I suppose, is what has, in the long run, drawn me to the more liturgical expressions of faith. There is a measuredness about it. A sense of pacing yourself, I suppose. Though even in that, I sometimes miss the sense of abandon that comes with the emotional release I found in a charismatic service – chaotic as it may have been, there was a catharsis – a transformation, a change – that took place that I have only rarely found outside that experience.

So I wonder what it must’ve been like for Peter, James and John on top of that mountain – and after. There was evidently an awareness of the significance of the event – Peter offered to build dwelling places for Jesus and Moses and Elijah. He wanted them to hang out together. They were his ultimate role models, I guess.

They’d all spent enough time with Jesus to begin to understand that he WAS who he was telling them he was. They were finally beginning to understand the full implication of what it meant to have God say to them in this vision – LISTEN TO HIM. In case you are wondering, the phrase is in the imperative form. It’s not a suggestion or a recommendation from God. It’s a commandment. “Imperative” comes from the same root as Empire or Emperor.

Peter and James and John KNEW they’d experienced something terribly significant in the ministry of Jesus. They KNEW they wanted to mark it. They knew it was a turning point in THEIR lives – as well as Jesus’ life. It wasn’t until later that they realized the full implication of the vision.

How long has it been since you experienced a life-changing encounter with God?

To be truthful, there is a part of me that has to wonder how HEALTHY it is to repeatedly live through these tremendously moving and seemingly life-changing events. From an emotional perspective, I know that as humans, we can accustom our bodies to a constant barrage of almost anything. Some young men become addicted to the adrenalin rush they get from engaging in extreme sports – jumping off bridges or skyscrapers attached to bungee chords or parachutes – others become addicted to the attention that is garnered from having some crisis going on in their lives each day or every other day – at least once a week. There are babies that can only go to sleep in the middle of a raucous party – music blaring, lights flashing, people yelling. We had our very own example of that up here in the choir a few minutes ago, courtesy of Chloe Garner. Here she was in her grandmother’s arms, surrounded by the whole choir singing their hearts out, and she was fast asleep. Not that I’m hoping that will be the case LATER in life, but there you have it. There is no end to what we can adjust to if we see no alternative to it.

Is it any wonder that we seek solace, seek comfort, seek PREDICTABILITY when we come through those doors on Sunday mornings? Our lives are, even here, in rural Virginia, bombarded with change – changing demographics – our neighbors don’t look like they used to – changing mores – what we hear on the radio or see on television isn’t the same as what it used to be – changing values – whether we like it or not, the children and grandchildren of those people we grew up with have to varying degrees walked away from any semblance of what had been, up until a few years ago, the accepted norms of society. We are faced with what seems to us a downward shift in all aspects of life – moral, spiritual and ethical.

I was speaking to a man yesterday who was one of the earliest members of Thalia Lynn Baptist Church, if not a founding member, who shared with me of his burden for a lifelong friend – a fishing buddy, he called him, who was 87 years old and had yet to ask Jesus to be Lord of his life. I asked if this man attended church anywhere. My friend replied that he did – that he attended Thalia Lynn Baptist Church. His wife was a member, but he had never taken that step of asking Jesus to be the Lord of his life. I was almost overwhelmed with the sadness of the situation. Though I don’t know who my friend was talking about, I am pretty sure that I would know the man he was talking about if he named him. And I wondered if I would have ever asked myself if he had given his life to Christ if I had known his name.

You see, there’s this thing that goes on – especially in American Christianity – but not only. And it is that idea of … guilty by association. Not in the negative sense here – but in the sense that … if I move around close enough to where the action is, I should be able to blend in and be considered part of it.

The problem with that is, it doesn’t work like that. Jesus tells us we HAVE to engage. We HAVE to believe. We HAVE to trust, and have faith, and proclaim and LIVE every day as though it were the day that he will come looking for us in order for it to be effective for us.

And even that part – the “effective for us” part of it is secondary. It’s a side-effect. Salvation is secondary to obedience. We are here primarily to help break in the Kingdom of God. And the Kingdom of God is risky. That’s why we include the phrase ‘risk something big for something good’ in our benediction and commissioning. There is nothing better to risk than that which will break in the Kingdom. And how does that look? It is as close as the person sitting next to you or in front of you or behind you. There are certain spaces empty this morning, but that’s okay. Even in the existence of these spaces, we are faced with what we can do to break in the Kingdom. I’m not saying that a full sanctuary equals breaking in the Kingdom, but it is a starting point. And it is a challenge.

We come to church seeking comfort and safety, but we need to understand that whenever we are in the presence of God, we must redefine what it means to be “safe”. Being in the presence of God is the … CAN be the LEAST comforting place TO be, and still want to be there … does that make sense?

God is about changing us. Changing the way we see the world, changing the way we see ourselves, changing the way we act and talk, and live. And that is risky.

So the hope and the prayer is that, whenever we come together, and understand ourselves to have been in the presence of God, that we will come away from this event with the knowledge that God has changed us. Maybe a lot, maybe a little, but God HAS changed us. We are more than we were when we came in and we are less than we will be tomorrow, and yet we are in that pilgrimage, and as unsafe and as risky and as uncomfortable as it may be, there is no safer place to be than holding God’s hand, because he’s got HIS hand outstretched to us, to walk alongside, and to guide.

Let’s Pray