Moving Through the Valley

'Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not." Jesus answered, "You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. And all were astounded at the greatness of God.'

--Luke 9: 28-43a

The first time I preached on Jesus’ Transfiguration I told the story of how I grew up on a mountain, how the majesty of the mountains connect us to God, but how, like Jesus and the disciples, we are so often compelled to come down from the mountaintops of our lives in order to live into who we are called to be.  I thought it was a pretty good sermon, but as the folks filed through the receiving line, one woman said to me:  “Oh I just love the mountains, too!  That was a wonderful sermon!"  Clearly, she didn’t really pay attention to the point of the sermon, which of course, was that we have to come DOWN from the mountain.  I guess folks hear what they want to hear.  So who knows what y’all will take away from this blog post today, taken from this past Sunday's sermon on the Transfiguration.

 

The story of the Transfiguration is one of my favorites, partially because of my aforementioned affinity for the mountains, partially because we hear it every year, which forces the preacher to come up with something new to say, but perhaps mostly because of how the event plays out and what happens immediately after.  This is a euphoric story.  Peter is totally wowed by the appearance of Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus, so much so that he wants to build three tents and stay up there forever.  It is surreal to see Jesus conversing with the Law-Giver and the greatest of the Hebrew prophets, a portrait of how Jesus is the one on whom the Law and the Prophets hang.  The imagery of resplendent light echoes majesty and glory, and the mention of a cloud is significant, as the appearance of a cloud in Scripture always evokes the presence of God.  This is a really powerful moment, and then just like THAT it’s over.  The voice of God is silent, Moses and Elijah are gone, and Jesus stands alone.  Rather than spending anymore time up there, Jesus takes his disciples back down the mountain. 

And what does he find when he gets there?  It’s pandemonium.  Folks are running around like mad, and a man comes up to Jesus in desperation to cure his child’s epilepsy.  The disciples who had not gone up the mountain had tried to help, but they failed.  No one knows what to do, and Jesus’ frustration begins to show.  “How much longer must I be with you and bear with you?” he wonders out loud.  Have you ever seen the images of Facepalm Jesus? 

Yeah, that’s more or less what’s happening here.  Jesus doesn’t come down the mountain to find peace or quiet or people who have it together.  When he comes down the mountain, down into the valley, Jesus finds chaos and confusion. 

We can picture the glorious image of Jesus being transfigured on the mountain, but have you ever stopped to realize that Jesus spent more time in valleys than he did on mountains?  Especially in the Gospel of Luke.  We heard a few weeks ago Luke's version of the Beatitudes, which are told in a valley, rather than on a mountainside.  Also, it is in Luke that we hear the story of the Good Samaritan, a parable about a man who is attacked and thrown into a ditch along the treacherous road between Galilee and Jerusalem. Throughout this Gospel Jesus can most often be found traversing those same treacherous highways and walking with people through some of the literally lowest places on earth.  I find that significant.  Luke's narrative serves as a reminder that Jesus travels with us through the low points of our lives.  Yes, he is there in the moments of joy atop the mountain, but he is also there in the chaos that comes after.  He’s there in the ditch when we stumble and fall in.  He’s there when the maddening crowds are too much to bear, and try as we might to cast out the demons we are unsuccessful.  He’s there trudging through the muck with us, all the while pointing us to what’s next, pointing us to Jerusalem, to the cross, to the journey that culminates in glory.

Another reason I love this story is because of when it falls every year in our church calendar; that is, right before Lent.  The season of Lent is long, and it’s tough.  It’s a grueling journey through fasting, temptation, prayer, study, and worship, and like Jesus’ own journey when he comes down the mountain, it too ends in the glory of Easter morning.  But oh boy sometimes it is hard to get there!  As we have now come down from the experiences of Christmas and Epiphany, we stand at the foot of the mountain, a long journey ahead of us. Jesus is there, too, setting his sights, and ours, on Jerusalem and the road that will lead to the cross. For some we enter this journey with euphoric spirits, like Peter, James, and John, who came down that mountain ecstatic about what Jesus was doing.  Maybe there are those of us who are feeling a similar exhalation over the birth of a new grandbaby, the baptism of a child, or a recent engagement.  That's wonderful!  Still, others may be looking at the long road of Lent with some trepidation over the burdens they are carrying:  addiction, unemployment, a family member whose demons they've tried casting out to no avail.  This week I cannot help but think of my brothers and sisters in the United Methodist Church, who are beginning their Lent uncertain of the wilderness road that lies ahead of them.  Regardless of where we are, hearing this story year after year invites us to prepare ourselves for that journey that is to come.

We know not what the road will look like, but we do know that we do not travel alone.  We travel with Jesus, and we travel together as his Body in the world.  Traveling the way of love, we know that whatever valleys we traverse, whatever perils we face, whatever crosses we bear, Christ will raise us to glory on that happy morning along with himself, and all manner of things shall be well.