IN THE PRESENCE OF THE HOLY

Dr. Richard J. Henderson February 26, 2006

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Psalm 50:1-6
Mark 9:2-9

Introduction

This account of Jesus' transfiguration is one to be enjoyed more than analyzed. It is an experience we savor rather than dissect.

I confess that I didn't want to talk about this story, because I'm not comfortable with it. It's too fantastic. I read it and ask myself, "Did it really happen? How did it take place? How could that be?"

Then I read these words in one of the commentaries, "...our challenge as preachers is not so much to ask, 'Did this really happen?' but rather, 'Do we have the imagination that is required for such a story to speak to us?'" That writer's point is that the message is important, not the mechanics. He is encouraging us not to pick it apart but to see and enjoy its meaning.

I

Jesus, Peter, James, and John go up a mountain apart by themselves. Going up a mountain in the Bible usually means getting closer to God. Remember Moses going up Mt Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments. The physical act of going up a mountain often represents a spiritual journey closer to God.

When they arrive, Jesus clothes turn a dazzling white, whiter than any bleach could make them. Suddenly Moses and the prophet Elijah appear, and they are talking to Jesus. The two of them have been dead for years, but they appear on the mountain.

Peter, often one to speak when silence is a better alternative, mutters something about commemorating this moment by building three tents - one for each of them. He stammers these words out of his awe and terror at what is happening.

A voice comes from a cloud saying, "This is my beloved Son, listen to him." As they go down the mountain, Jesus tells them not to tell anyone what they have seen until he has risen.

II

These disciples experienced a vision. Lots of people have visions. I used to think that only kooks or crazy people saw visions, but people I know very well - normal, well-adjusted, everyday people have told me of their visions.

These are not people who saw Moses or Elijah, but people who have experienced the presence of God in an undeniably clear way... a way that changed their lives.

A member of our congregation, very concerned about her upcoming surgery, told me how calm she felt when I went to visit her on the day of surgery. She told me how Jesus had appeared to her as she was left sitting in the hallway in her wheelchair, awaiting more tests. "He spoke to me and said, 'Don't worry, everything is going to be alright.'" Her fear left her, and her surgery went beautifully.

A close friend of mine had a moment in his life when he felt the presence of God as surely he knew the presence of his own family members. That moment in his life transformed him.

These are experiences that take place within the dull routine of life. Like the disciples, in the ordinariness of life God suddenly breaks through. It is a glimpse of the spectacular in the midst of the normal, a time when the extraordinary cracks open the ordinary.

If you have had one of these experiences, I imagine you savor it. If you haven't, I imagine you wish you had.

III

Maybe that's why we come to worship. Not to have a fantastic vision, but to be touched in some way by the Holy. Maybe we come here hoping that, at least for a moment, the veil will be lifted and we will catch a glimpse of the divine in it all.

We are so caught up in the routine, the everyday jumble of events, and yet we believe there's more. We plod through the humdrum ordinariness of life, but know that behind this surface there is a meaning and hope that we so often miss. In worship we hope to see the world as it really is.

We come to find silence in a noisy, clamoring world. In worship we hope to somehow, sometime be touched by with a sense of the wonder of God. In worship we are reminded of awe.

As those disciples climbed the mountain on a very ordinary day and were overwhelmed by the power and presence of God, so we hope for that kind of experience too. It's not that we need to be shaken by fantastic events, we'll settle to a tug on our sleeve, a sense of being drawn into God, even a whisper from what seems to be our Lord.

We know that there is more to life than the busy treadmill we run every day. In worship we are reminded of what it means to be in the presence of God. We are reminded of the great meaning that stands as the foundation of our lives.

Conclusion

One of the great preachers of our time tells of a conversation he had in an airport. It's a comment every minister has heard. A man said to him, "I don't go to church, but I try to do right and live a good life, to help people when I can, and isn't that after all, what the Christian faith is mostly about?"

The preacher regrets to this day that he didn't take the time to explain to the man that, no, that isn't what Christianity is about. He wishes he had said, "No... the Christian faith is about more, so much more than our little deeds. It's about worship, awe, ecstasy. Before it is anything we do, the Christian faith is about something God does - a gift, a self-giving revelation. To boil down this uncontainable fire to the moral is to demean it. Try to lasso a wave, put out to sea in the middle of a hurricane - that's closer to the Christian faith." He says he wishes he had said that. Would that have been too much for an airport conversation?

Amen.

©Richard J. Henderson 2006