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First Friends Meeting
Mark 9:2-8
‘Personality and Prayer, Part 3’
Doug Gwyn
It’s been a delight to watch the fall colors spreading over the
trees once again. It’s one of those pleasures we never seem
to tire of. It’s an epiphany at the end of a season of
growth – and a sign that winter is coming. Of course, these
spectacular colors have been there all along, but were hidden by the
green chlorophyll. Only when the chlorophyll fades with the
shorter days and cooler temperatures do these other colors
appear. Hopefully, there will still be some warm days this month
– these will be among the most beautiful days of the year.
But fall colors tell us that a season of growth is coming to an end.
For many autumns now, fall colors have reminded me of the story Barbara
just read for us. This story has a similar place in the life and
ministry of Jesus, a season of growth. The ministry of Jesus in
Galilee has come to its height. Soon, he will lead his disciples
south, toward Jerusalem. Great things will happen there too, but
conflict will also increase, with deadly consequences. At this
apex of his ministry, the disciples tell Jesus about the popular
excitement and the speculation about him, about who this Jesus
is. And then Peter takes a wild leap of faith. He confesses
that he believes Jesus is the Messiah. And then Jesus tells Peter
and the disciples what is ahead – that he will be rejected,
suffer a terrible death, and rise from the dead. Well, this is
incomprehensible to the disciples. Just as they are savoring such
acclaim and rising expectation, Jesus comes out with this? Peter
vigorously objects. Jesus chastizes Peter and the conversation
breaks off.
So our story picks up six days later, as Jesus takes just three of the
disciples, those closest to him, Peter, James, and John, off by
themselves. And he is transfigured before them, radiant, dazzling
– like one of those maples in October. They’re seeing
Jesus in his true colors. And on either side of Jesus, the two
greatest prophets of Israel, Moses and Elijah, appear. These are
the two figures most connected with Jewish expectation of the
Messiah. They’re carrying on some kind of
conversation. These three disciples are having an epiphany
– they are seeing their friend Jesus as he his full reality.
Well, it’s an overwhelming vision. And, as usual, Peter is
the one who reacts most dramatically and decisively.
“Rabbi, I’m glad we’re here to see this.
Let’s make three dwellings, one for each of you.”
We’re not sure exactly what kind of structure Peter is suggesting
here. Some have suggested that Peter wants to build three little
shrines to mark the spot. Mark comments that Peter blurts this
out because he really doesn’t know what to say – they were
all scared out of their wits. In one way or another, Peter is
thinking, don’t just stand there, do something. Say
something, do something, build something. In one sense, Peter is
saying, this is great, let’s bottle this. Let’s
create some kind of container for this experience. Or in another
sense, by saying and doing something, Peter wants to put a thing
between himself and this overwhelming experience, even between himself
and this Jesus – someone he’s seeing in a completely new
way.
But then a cloud overshadows the whole scene. And out of the
cloud a voice says, “This is my Son, my Beloved, listen to
him!” Then the dazzling vision passes, Moses and Elijah are
nowhere to be seen. It’s just them and the ordinary-looking
Jesus again.
I think we sometimes have a similar experience with those closest to
us. There are moments when we really see them for who they really
are. Each person is a dazzling creation of God. But we
normally see them only in their ordinariness, in the categories we have
learned to use in looking at each other – gender, race, class,
education, etc. But sometimes we see them in their full reality
– it may be a glorious, dazzling vision. Or we may see that
person in his or her vulnerability, frailty, suffering. Either
way, these are privileged moments. They’re usually given
only to those closest to a person. But when such moments come, we
often don’t know what to say. We’re either
speechless, like James and John, or we say something stupid, like
Peter. We stammer out something to deflect the intimacy, or to
tone down the drama. Or we blurt out some kind of rational
explanation – something to contain and domesticate the
experience.
But we really need to do what the voice from the cloud says –
yes, what you’re seeing is my child, my beloved son or daughter,
don’t just do something, stand there – and listen.
Now, listening may include drawing that person out, letting them know
that you’re interested, asking questions that help them speak
their truth. But our speaking is in service to their speaking and
our listening.
A couple weeks ago, We listened to Jesus speaking about prayer.
He said, go ahead and ask, and keep asking for what you need.
Asking is a key part of prayer – it starts the conversation with
God. It says here’s where I am. These are the
challenges I’m facing. This is what I really need.
But that’s only the beginning. God is not Santa Claus,
another old man with a white beard. Prayer is not sitting on
God’s knee asking for the moon. Prayer is really a
conversation. But God doesn’t answer in the same way we
ask. We don’t hear God say, “OK, I’m on
it.” Or, “Get real.”
What comes back to us is more subtle. It’s thought that
seems to come out of nowhere. A little nudge in some
direction. An off-hand comment a friend makes to you. A
door opening to you. Or a door closing to you. Even an
illness that derails your life for a while. Last Sunday, Charlie
Matthews quoted a friend who told him, “Sometimes God makes you
lie down so you can look up.” Listening for answers to
prayer takes all of our senses – and all the sense we can
muster. But along the way, God is not just answering our
prayers. God is also teaching us, discipling us, to know how to
know. We learn how to pick up the signals, not just from God, but
from one another.
And often the signals are telling us to do something useful.
Peter is not wrong for wanting to do something useful. It’s
just that building commemorative shrines was not a useful idea.
It was just busy work, to avoid an awkward moment. He needed to
listen first. Peter would go on to do many useful things for his
friend, Jesus. But first he needed to learn to listen
better. Likewise, we need to listen to God to know what’s
really useful. It’s true for us as individuals, and as a
congregation. Churches can get completely awash in things to do
– elaborate liturgies in worship, hyperactive programs, building
new buildings, etc. But things to do need to generate out of our
life with God. The doing for God has to generate out of our being
with God. Being disciples comes from the spiritual disciplines of
listening.
Peter was the first to believe that Jesus was the Messiah. But he
had to catch up with the fuller meaning of that intuitive leap, and
learn what it really means. Likewise, we too may confess that
Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. But we spend the rest of our
lives living into that reality, learning what it really means.
Jesus is the Son of God most of all because he helps us see each person
as the son or daughter of God. Each of us is transfigured in the
light of Christ, if we have the eyes to see and the hearts to
respond. We gain those eyes and hearts as we listen to the life
and teachings of Jesus, and most of all, as we listen to the Spirit of
Jesus among us. We begin to hear his story in our story.
And our story in his. We’re acting out these scenes all the
time. We’re the characters. And we’re either
listening or we’re not. We’re either following or
we’re not. We’re either getting it or we’re
not.
Each Sunday, we spend some time in silence, listening together –
listening to God in our hearts, listening to God speak through the
Spirit-led words we speak out of the silence. And each Sunday, we
close worship with our sung benediction. We sing, “Lift up
your eyes and seek God’s face.” We don’t have
to lift up our eyes any higher than to see each other’s
faces. In these moments, we see one another transfigured in the
light and love of God. And from these moments, we go out and do
good things in the world.
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