Rev. Nick Cheek
Exodus 24: 12-18 and Matthew 17: 1-9
Midway through Mark’s gospel, people are still trying to figure out who Jesus really is. The crowds are confused, the religious leaders are skeptical, and even the disciples—those closest to him—don’t fully understand who they are following. They have witnessed miracles, heard his teachings, watched him heal, yet they are still asking, in one way or another, “Who is this man?” In the midst of this confusion, Jesus takes three disciples, Peter, James, and John, on a hike up a mountain. Little do they know what awaits them at the top. They might have assumed Jesus brought them there for a prayer or another lesson, but they are completely caught off guard by what happens next. An intense spectacle of brilliance unfolds before them: Moses and Elijah, the prophets of old, appear, and a cloud from heaven surrounds them. They hear a voice from God, and then Jesus is transfigured…his clothes become dazzling white. Jesus shines like the sun, radiating such extreme brightness that the three disciples are initially terrified. They have to raise their hands to shield themselves from the overwhelming light. Gradually, their hands lower, and they stand in awe of the sight before them. They take in the image of stunning, flawless perfection; Jesus, but not the Jesus they are familiar with. This is a different Jesus: one without dirt on his face, without worn, raggedy clothes. This is Jesus in all his glory and splendor… a powerful, perfect, brilliant, shiny Jesus. [Pause]
I like bright, shiny things, don’t you? Like a brand-new car, or a new iPhone right from the box… or a brand-new pair of shoes before they get mud on them. Or a model home in a new neighborhood. Have you ever walked through one of those? They’re amazing. Everything is staged just right. The pillows are perfectly fluffed and placed. The countertops sparkle. There’s not a fingerprint anywhere. The pantry looks like no one has ever opened it. The clothes in the closets are color-coordinated and organized as if someone had folded every shirt with a ruler. You walk through thinking, “Wow… this is how life is supposed to look… everything in order, spotless, clean.” And then you drive back to your actual house… You walk in and find a pile of shoes by the door. Dirty dishes in the sink. Pet hair is in clumps all over the place. Dirty laundry is in the hamper, and clean laundry is waiting to be folded. The mystery stain on the carpet you’ve stopped asking about. This is definitely not a model home.
Yes, we like shiny things. I think that’s why this transfigured Jesus is something that Peter quite quickly warms up to. This version of Jesus engulfed in clean white light is more attractive…it’s more exciting.. It’s unfamiliar. Peter is so fond of this image of Jesus that his creative juices start flowing. He thinks to himself, “What can we do with this brightness? How can we harness it… How can we keep it…? Maybe we can pitch a tent here… we can all dwell up here on the mountain and bask in this transfigured Jesus as long as possible. We can enjoy the light… up here together…without the infiltration of worldly contamination… without the frustration of human disappointments… without the earthly mud… the messiness… the misery.”
If we’re honest… like Peter, we are drawn to a shiny faith… to a faith that promises to make everything clean and perfect. We are drawn to the brilliance… to the mountaintops, away from the pains and frustrations of the world below. That may be one of the reasons we come here on Sunday mornings. We come here for a break… we come here for a glimpse of the holy. We come here to witness some light in the world. For many of us, we are drawn to this space because it is reverent and ordered. We care about the beautiful music. We care about the purposeful liturgy. We care about doing things well. And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, there is something deeply human about it. We all need moments of glory. We all need those spaces where the noise quiets down, where the words are thoughtful, where the prayers are spoken with care. We all need reminders that God is holy. But real life rarely looks like Sunday morning. Real life is not orderly. Real life doesn’t have a printed bulletin or follow a purposeful liturgy. Real life is noisy… is confusing… It’s filled with twists and turns. Real life is full of questions, tensions, and doubts. Real life is rarely bright and shiny. Our time in here gives us a glimpse of glory. But it was never meant to be an escape from reality. It was meant to strengthen us to re-enter it.
Pastor and author Debie Thomas, in her reflection on this passage, reminds us that Peter’s instinct to stay on the mountain isn’t foolish; it’s actually deeply human. Of course, he wants to stay on the mountain. Up there is clarity, brilliance, and reassurance. Down below is conflict, and the shadow of suffering. Thomas suggests that Peter’s mistake isn’t that he recognizes the goodness of the moment — it is good… it is beautiful… The mistake is thinking it can be contained or preserved… allowing them to forget the world below. She reminds us that spiritual experiences aren’t given so we can possess them; they are given so they can transform us.
I think deep down, Peter understands this. And I think we do too. We know that the faith we profess was never meant to turn us into shiny, happy people. And the church was never meant to be a gathering of the spiritually polished on a hilltop. It was meant to be a place for real people. People who are tired. People who are doubting. People who are holding it together in public but falling apart in private. People whose prayers are complicated and unfinished.
The church doesn’t exist to represent a standard of holiness… It exists to represent a standard of grace. There is beauty in the brilliance, but there is also beauty in the brokenness… in the imperfection… in the authentic need we all have for mercy. The church is for the brilliant and the broken.
In our story this morning, I have to wonder… what was Jesus thinking on top of that mountain… engulfed in bright light… surrounded by glory? Was he thinking the same as Peter? I mean, if anyone had reason to stay up there, it was Jesus. He knew what waited below. He knew the road would lead to Jerusalem. He knew betrayal was coming. Rejection. Humiliation. The Cross. He knew he would face some of the worst the world had to offer. If anyone had reason to remain wrapped safely in comfort and peace, it was Jesus. But what would he choose? Would he choose the mountain or the valley?
No sooner after Peter’s suggestion to remain on the mountaintop does Jesus begin to transfigure back into human form. The brightness lifts like a morning mist. His radiant face returns to a weathered and worn one. His dazzling white garments give way to the ordinary, dusty clothes he has been wearing all along. It’s all gone. He goes back to normal. Jesus makes his choice. He chooses to embrace his humanness… he chooses to embrace the reality of the world — its light and its darkness… he chooses to embrace the earth in all its chaos. He chooses to embrace us… You and me… without reservation and despite our weakness and frailty. Jesus chooses us in our messy incompleteness and says, “I’d rather be down there with you in the mess of life. I’d rather walk beside you than shine above you.”
Yeah, I know it sounds crazy… Peter, James, and John, but we’re getting off this mountain and we’re marching down there. Down into the noise, down into the suffering, down into their need… [short pause] down into communities divided by anger, down into broken systems, down into streets where people feel forgotten, down into hospitals and waiting rooms, down into classrooms where young people feel stressed or alone, down into places of loneliness and fear and depression… down into the mud… into the dirt… We’re going down there, Peter, James, and John… to stand in the middle of this wonderfully flawed world, because that’s where I want to be. That’s where I need to be… and it’s where you need to be, too.
Nineteenth-century pastor Edwin Hubbell Chapin writes, “Christ illustrates the meaning of life as He descends from His transfiguration into toil, and goes forward to exchange that robe of heavenly brightness for the crown of thorns. The glory was not meant to detain Him upon the mount; it was meant to strengthen Him for the valley and for the cross below.”
Jesus doesn’t stay up there on top of the mountain, because staying would misunderstand what glory truly is. Glory is not brilliance alone. For Jesus, glory is brilliance that moves toward brokenness. It is love poured out for the world.
Friends, thanks be to God that Jesus chose to come down. Thanks be to God that he does not wait for us to clean ourselves up before he loves and accepts us… and walks alongside us. Today, Jesus invites us to follow him… down the mountain and into a world in need. Will you follow?
In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.