Unfolding Joy: The Joy of Being Changed

Mark 9:2-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Eight years ago, we did a collaborative art project of today’s story at the Minneapolis campus. A couple dozen people came in on a Saturday morning, and a high school art teacher, Jon Kamrath, and his wife, Heidi, guided us through the process. Ahead of time, Jon stretched a canvass and painted a blue sky and a purple mountain. Aside from that context, it was a blank slate. Then we came together to read the text and ask questions, and we began to contribute to the piece. 

In the top right of the final project, there’s a light that radiates out, and around it is a cloud. Jon had prepared letters for us to cut out, and we were also invited to do some journaling on slips of paper. The writing prompt was, when have you felt closest to God? From a distance, it’s easy to pull out some of the words that are key to the story:

• Peter, John
• Mountain
• Dazzling appearance
• Voice came out of the cloud
• This is my son
• Listen to him

If you get close to the painting, you realize the letters that form these words are overlaid with the journal entries. None of the handwriting is fully legible, but it’s clear that the reflections are personal. They describe encounters with God that were profound and memorable. 

Indeed, the story of this and all the other encounters with Jesus are meant to be personal. The stories of Jesus are told again and again to invite us into relationship with God and one other.

Imagine again the story that Jen just read…

One day, Jesus took Peter, James and John with him to a place apart. He led them up a high mountain, and they were alone there. Suddenly, his clothes became dazzling white, whiter than fresh fallen snow against a clear, blue sky. The appearance of Moses and Elijah, the cloud that overshadowed them, and the voice of God that rumbled were frightening, but awe inspiring. There was no doubt that Jesus was the Son of God. 

As quickly as it happened, it was over, and Jesus led them down the mountain and swore them to secrecy. There would be a time for his revelation, but it wasn’t yet. This Transfiguration was just for them. Jesus’ outer appearance changed to make way for the inner transformation that would happen to them. 

Well, every story depends on where you begin, and the transformation that would need to happen for Peter, James and John would be sizeable. Six days earlier, there had been an argument. Jesus asked his friends who people said he was, and “who specifically do you say that I am?” And Peter had said, “You’re the Messiah. You’re the chosen one of God.” Then, too, Jesus had sworn them to secrecy, and he began to talk about being rejected, and being killed and rising from the dead. Peter argued with him and said, ‘no’, but Jesus said, “Even you will lose your life to find it.”

It takes a lot of imagination to change one’s preconceived notions about freedom. Peter had lived his entire life under the occupying force of the Roman Empire, and he assumed that Messiah would come in power to bring freedom. And now as they came down that mountain, Jesus said, “Don’t speak a word of what you’ve seen until after I’ve risen from the dead.” They scratched their heads wondering, what could it possibly mean to rise from the dead? And if there were such a thing as glory, hadn’t they just seen it? 

Peter can’t fathom strength in weakness; victory in defeat. He can’t conceive of freedom in obedience. Nor life springing from death. But for a moment, there on the mountain, Jesus changes on the outside to make way for Peter and the others to change on the inside.

Lest we miss it, they caught a glimpse of something else, too. There on the mountain, they caught a vision of God the parent. It was holy tenderness. God as parent includes the way a parent or grandparent or parent figure holds their child’s gaze, coos at them, and delights in them. The love of a parent figure isn’t just a rumble of thunder announcing authority. It’s interaction. Joyful play. It’s holiness that expresses itself in self-giving, because that’s what happens when someone adores and celebrates another. 

• It reminds me of my friend who said to her daughter on her wedding day, “I’ve loved you since I’ve known you were anything, and it’s a love more profound than anything I have experienced.”
• It reminds me of the sturdy arms that carried Haley and Nathan in from the cold this morning and held them at their baptism. 
• It reminds me of parents who hang in there when learning is hard, when relationships are thorny, when mental health is at risk. 
• It reminds me of the tender love expressed by parents who outlive their kids. 

In each of these cases, I hear voices of real people. When the voice from the cloud on the mountain says, “This is my child, the one I love,” it’s more than a rumble of thunder. It’s active, self-sacrificing love. 

Believe it or not, some of us tune in to the Super Bowl just to see the ads. Last year, New York Life sponsored a 60-second commercial called, “Love Takes Action.” I think it’s one of the all-time best. It starts out by saying, “The ancient Greeks had four words for love.”

• The first is ‘Philia’. Philia is affection that grows from friendship.
• Next, there’s ‘Storge’ — the kind of love you have for a grandparent or a brother. 
• The third is ‘Eros,’ the uncontrollable urge to say ‘I love you.’
• “The fourth kind of love is different. It’s the most admirable. It’s called ‘Agape’ —  love as an action. It takes courage. Sacrifice. Strength.”

(Today is Valentine’s Day. It’s a good day to celebrate any kind of love.) 

It’s this fourth kind of love, ‘Agape’ that’s at the root of the word “beloved” when God says, “This is my Son, the one I love.” It was because of God’s deep love for us that God came near in Jesus. It’s self-giving love. Love as action. Courageous love. It loves us and accepts us and meets us where we are. 

Eight years ago when we did the collaborative art project, one of the women said, “When I think of a mountaintop experience, it’s kind of exalted with choirs singing, and it should be a good experience. But yet, [when I think about the times when I] felt closest to God, I would have to say that my mountaintop experiences were not good experiences. It was when my father died and when my mother was sick. That’s when I felt closest to God.” God came near. It was love in action. 

There on the mountain, Jesus changed on the outside so we could change on the inside, to love with self-giving love, too. Maybe the last thing that needs to be changed is our imagination — to recognize and believe that God shows up in the places we least expect to find God. Not in power or affluence or influence. But in the cross, in our moments of despair, in our brokenness and vulnerability — always to redeem, love and save. Whether we expect it or not. Whether we think we’re loveable or not. 

In just a few days, it will be Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. We’ll trace the sign of the cross on our foreheads. We hope you will join us each week on Sundays and Wednesdays, to worship with the congregation and hear the stories that beckon us into relationship with God and one another, to struggle with what it means to lose our life in order to find it, and to discover ourselves changing, to reflect the brilliant light of Christ.

May the love of God in Jesus light the way forward as we hear the voice of Jesus and discover where he may be calling. Amen.