Sunday 15 March 2015

The True Glory of Jesus. Luke 9. 28-36

View from the Jungfrau. Image by G Lilly
You see some pretty amazing things when you climb a mountain.  We have seen mountain hares on Ben Chonzie, Ptarmigan on Schiehallion; we have seen glaciers and mountains stretch as far as the eye can see from the Jungfrau. But we have never seen what Peter, James and John saw. 

They (Jesus, Peter, James and John) have climbed a mountain to pray.  No surprises there.  Jesus seems to have been fond of the hills and to have appreciated the opportunities they offered him to spend time with his Father.  Possibly an all-night prayer time; almost certainly Jesus was praying about the knowledge that he was going to die on a cross. Jesus has been talking about his death – and about the impact of his death on us.

In prayer Jesus is caught up into the presence of God.    Suddenly, Jesus'  face begins to shine, like that of Moses on mount Sinai.  His dusty unbleached clothes become dazzling white like lightning.   It is more than God's Presence, it reveals his God-nature – for a while the divine glory squeezed into a human body, is allowed to shine out.  And Moses (the lawgiver) and Elijah (the first in a line of prophets who challenged kings and spoke to the nation)  are there, talking with Jesus.  It's kind of a hint that Jesus fulfils the “law and the Prophets”.

 The conversation was about his departure – his Exodus – that he was about to accomplish – to fulfil or complete – in Jerusalem.   That theme again: the Cross and resurrection.  But this time, there is an encouragement.  The Cross and resurrection together are Jesus' “Fulfilled Exodus”.  Luke intends to draw our attention back to the Exodus, the escape from Egypt.  The climax of the book of Exodus is the night when each family killed and ate their passover lamb and put its blood over the door of their homes; that night God's angel brought death to every household except those with the blood on the doorposts, and then the people escaped through the Red Sea from slavery in Egypt.

The Cross of Jesus is the death of the Passover lamb; it is the moment at which the people who choose to paint his blood on their doorpost are set free from the Angel of death; it opens up the day in which god's people are rescued from slavery.

This is an amazing moment:  Jesus is having this amazing time.  As Jesus glows with the glory of God, we see God is at work in power.  We see who Jesus really is. We see his engaging with the challenge and the power of the Cross and the Kingdom.  It's amazing! It's wonderful.

Wake up and receive God's gift!
But Peter, James and John nearly miss it.  They are asleep!  This amazing thing is happening. God is at work in power revealing who Jesus is and what he does – and those who could be witnesses are asleep.  That's a scary possibility for us as well.  We can be asleep to the fact that god is at work; we can be asleep to who Jesus really is; we can be asleep to the challenge and the promise of the Cross and the Kingdom.  All this stuff is there, happening., waiting for us to engage with it.  And we are asleep.  We are lulled to sleep by unbelief: “I can ignore all that 'god' stuff”.  We are sent to sleep by exhaustion.  Usually in Scotland, you wouldn't sleep on the top of a mountain – it's cold up there, even on a hot day, there's often a cold wind, and sometimes (is that the right word?) rain or sleet.  But if you've climbed a hill at the end of a day's work, and it's dark, and the wind is a pleasant breeze, you might doze off.  We doze off through the boredom of thinking we have everything sorted out and nothing more to learn. When I was at Primary school, we had French lessons.  There were gramophone records that always began with a jolly Frenchman saying “Bon Voyage...!”  to this day I have a great French accent but no French grammar, because by the time I got to Secondary School, and had “proper” French lessons from a “proper” French teacher, I thought I knew French.  I was  a wee bit ahead of the class – so I didn't listen and didn't learn.  Boredom can lull us to sleep and shut us up to the possibilities of learning and growing.  I believe God is telling us to wake up to what he is doing. To Wake up to who Jesus is; to wake up to the challenge and promise of the Cross and the kingdom.  Don't dismiss what God is saying; don't be too busy to engage; don't be bored as though you have nothing to learn.

Receive God's gift.     And so,  the light of God's glory penetrates the disciples' sleepy minds.  Peter and the others wake up, and see, and maybe hear.  They see his “True Glory” and they see Moses and Elijah.  And they recognise Moses and Elijah.  This awakening, the ability to tap into what is happening. to Jesus – so that the awesome, transcending experience of Jesus himself touches their lives – and the discernment to identify the two patriarchs with him, are God's gift to them.  We need to wake up, and receive god's gift.  Some of us sometimes think that there is a world of people who get special things in their walk with God – a world of Billy Graham or Selwyn Hughes, of Joyce Meyer, or Nicky Gumbell.  We look in on their world of insights and miracles.  But God has a gift, an insight, a miracle, for all of us.  Wake up and receive God's gift.

A monumental error!
Then the two patriarchs  – begin to take their leave.  Peter's instinct is very much like ours: he has to head that off.  “It's good that we are here” Freeze this moment, preserve it for ever: “Let's build three wee shelters – one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah” – "It is a good thing we are here" probably means "it is a good thing for us to be able to enjoy this experience and so let us continue it."  The three booths that are imagined, would probably be like those built in the feast of Tabernacle's. Luke helpfully throws in “not knowing what he said.”  Sometimes it's like that with us, too.  We want to freeze the moment, to preserve it in formaldehyde, to make some sort of commemoration.  Stick up a blue plaque: “on this spot, Moses and Elijah talked with Jesus!”

We don't know what we are saying some of the time.  We get obsessed with how to preserve the outward signs of revival.  We can't fully get to grips with the whole message: it's one thing to see the glory, and another to embrace the Cross, and to take up our own cross. And Peter's idea is such an irrelevance... Is freezing the moment really the best we can manage by way of engaging with what God is doing?     God has other plans.

Bring it home.
The cloud comes down, and the Voice speaks: “This is my son, my chosen: listen to him!”  It's a reminder of what we saw at Jesus' baptism.  The father is pleased with the Son, and lovingly affirms him, says “Well done Son, you're on the right track” when Jesus is holding Cross and resurrection , suffering and glory, sacrifice and Kingdom together. But the Voice is speaking to Peter, James and John.  “Listen to him” means obey him.  Do what he says.  Learn from him. Be like him.  

Then the cloud lifts, Moses and Elijah are gone and the three are left with Jesus, his face maybe returning to “normal.”  They say nothing at that point – not until after Jesus has risen from the dead (Mk  9. 9)  Talking about it can be just another way of building a monument.  Instead, they watch.  And they listen,. And they learn.   They have been involved in this strange, sobering, supernatural moment.  They have seen Jesus' glory.  Their call is not to hold onto the moment; their call and experience is to be transformed by the moment.

At the foot of the mountain, reality – the other reality –  the reality that can't imagine things any different, the reality that struggles to see God at work, the reality that just doesn't get what Jesus is all about – kicks in.  The rest of the disciples have failed to drive out a demon from a boy; the boy's Dad is disappointed and in despair.  And the greatness of God is seen as Jesus casts out the demon and makes the boy better.  Then Jesus is again talking about his death, and the disciples still don't get it.  They  want to have the ministry all to themselves, to call down bolts of lightning on people who won't listen, and struggle with the idea that the “”Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head”.  And it is in that world that they are to listen, to learn, to obey, and to be transformed. 


It's not enough to build three shelters - to preserve the moment of blessing. We need to bring it home, to live in that blessing in the place where we are: in our home, in our real world! 

© Gilmour Lilly March  2015

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