Transfiguration A
March 2, 2014
Matthew17:1-9
At our last
confirmation class, we were learning about the life and teaching of Jesus.
Matthew’s account of the Transfiguration was one of the stories we studied.
Often I feel like we throw a lot of information about the Bible at these kids,
but we also want them to learn to see the Bible as a book of life, a devotional
book, one that can bring insight and one that, through study and reflection,
can answer prayers or clarify our struggles. So we decided to read the
Transfiguration story with them devotionally. We did it in the style of lectio
divina, a way of reading where you listen to it read aloud several times,
noticing what words, phrases or images rise up for you.
As anyone
who is or has ever been a teacher can attest, the teacher often ends up learning
as much or more than the students in any given lesson, and this was one of
those cases. In my leading a devotional reading of the Bible with our youth,
God spoke to me very profoundly, and
even caused a transformation. As we read, the words in the passage that
resonated with me were first, “This is my Son… listen to him!” and then, “they
were overcome by fear.”
Why these
phrases? Perhaps a story will best demonstrate. A few Fridays ago, the day
before this confirmation class, I was buying a sweater in a consignment shop.
While I was paying, the woman who worked there kept saying how scattered her
mind was this week… and then she finally said, “I’ve been absent-minded all
week. My niece was killed on Sunday.” Figuring she must have told me this
because she needed to talk about it, I gently asked what happened, and listened
to her story. As she spoke I felt a voice saying, “Tell her you’re a pastor.
Give her your contact info. Pray with her.” I started praying silently
throughout the conversation, but the voice wouldn’t quit. But something kept me
from it: I was afraid. I didn’t want things to turn awkward. I didn’t want to
put myself out there. Even as God said to my heart, “This is my Son. Listen to
him!” I found that I, with the disciples, fell to the ground, overcome by fear.
How hard would it have been to give her my phone number, tell her I’m a pastor,
and to call if she needed anything… but I didn’t. Before I left, I told her I
would be praying for her and her family, but even as I said it I knew that I
still wasn’t listening to what that voice was telling me, because I was still
afraid.
The encounter weighed heavily on my
heart all the way home, and still does, three weeks later. I have continued to
hear those words, “Listen to him!” and wondered what is so hard about that?
Here I am, a pastor who prays with people regularly in various situations, and
I still find it hard not to be afraid sometimes when I hear Jesus telling me to
do something that is out of my comfort zone. What is there to fear?
Tell me I’m not alone here. Do you
have a similar story? A time when you felt God telling you something, but the
task for whatever reason seemed to overwhelm you with fear? It happens to me
all the time. How many months did I spend dating the wrong guy because even
though God was telling me, “Not this one, Johanna,” I was too afraid to end it?
How many relationships with people did I miss out on because I was afraid to
listen to God’s urgings to talk to someone? How many experiences have I missed
because of a failure to listen to God’s voice?
Well, here’s another story, which
happened a couple weeks later. I was flying home from Houston, and ended up
sitting next to a lovely young woman who seemed to exude joy. We made some
small talk, but then went to our own reading material. I noticed she was
reading a Bible study of some sort, and had her Bible out. I didn’t want to
seem creepy, like I was watching her, but something about her drew me in. And
all at once I got a strong feeling that she was discerning something, and I
longed to know what it was. Again, I heard that voice: “Talk to her!” Again, I
shrugged it off, coming up with all kinds of reasons I should not listen, and
should instead just keep to myself.
But I remembered the fear I felt
before, with the woman in the consignment shop. I remembered what Jesus had
said to me in the story of the Transfiguration that morning in confirmation
class. And so finally I got up the nerve to start a conversation. And wouldn’t
you know it, I learned that this young woman was on her way to a convent, with
the intention of becoming a nun. Her next five years will be a time of
discernment before she makes her final vows. Our conversation was lively and
life-giving, as we connected as two young woman on fire for Christ and the
Gospel, and at the end we exchanged information and agreed to write and to pray
for each other. And we have.
“This is my Son. Listen to him!” said
that voice to the disciples, and so also to me and to all of us. And they fell
to the ground and were overcome with fear. They did not know what it might mean
to listen to Jesus. What might he tell them to do – things that are difficult
and scary and out of their comfort zone?
What might it mean for their lives – a change? A transformation for
which they aren’t prepared? A venture into a way of life entirely unfamiliar?
Of course they – we! – are overcome with fear!
I wonder if this is why prayer is
sometimes very difficult. I find it a lot easier to pray with words, and lots
of them! I’m like Peter in that way. Peter experienced this incredible moment
when the veil between God and humanity became very thin and the brightness of
God was shining upon him in a very real way – and immediately he started talking
and doing and being a busy-body. Because it is much easier to keep busy and
keep talking than it is to simply take in the glory of God and the possibility
of God working in and through us. As long as we are doing the talking, we
remain in control. I suppose this is why this way of praying is the one with
which I am most comfortable. Much less comfortable is the sort where all I do
is listen. And I suppose the reason it is less comfortable is that I don’t
always like what I hear – and indeed, that I am afraid of it.
I admit to you that part of the
reason that throughout Lent this year we will be studying different ways of
praying, is because I hoped to benefit personally from it. And if you have ever
struggled to just be with God and listen, I hope you will take advantage of the
various offerings throughout Lent. Just planning for it has already made prayer
more accessible to me, and I am so eager to hear and learn from you and your
experiences, and to see how you, too, might discover ways to be with God
without a lot of words. Because the fact is, listening to Jesus can be very
uncomfortable and even scary, and the story of the Transfiguration and
countless life experiences are a testament to that!
But, the story doesn’t stop there,
for Peter, or for us. After they fall to the ground in fear, Jesus comes to
them, touches them, and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And this is the
moment of Peter’s transfiguration – and of ours, when the same thing happens to
us. As often as we have experiences where we fall short, like mine in the
consignment store, we still know, at the end of the day, that we are called to
get up and listen to Jesus. And we know that if we fail to listen once, there
will likely be another chance, like my opportunity on the airplane. This is the
shape of the Christian life – we try, we sometimes succeed, we often fall
short; we have moments of insight and moments of denial. But we can always
trust that when we do fail and fall, Jesus will come to us, offer his healing
touch, and tell us to get up and not be afraid. If we can hear that, listen to
that, we might just find that this willingness to listen to and partner with
God does lead to transformation – in the scariest but most wonderful way!
Let us pray…
Glorious God, we are listening. Help us
not to be afraid. [long silence] In the name of the Father and the Son and the
Holy Spirit. Amen.
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