Mountaintop
Experiences (2/7/16)
JESUS MAFA Project, Transfiguration
On Transfiguration Sunday I examined the account of the transfiguration in the Gospel of Luke and I offered a story from my own faith journey.
Exodus 34:29-35; Luke 9:28-36
Sermon
Good
morning! I want to thank you again for providing such a warm welcome last
Sunday for my dear friends KJ and David. They both said to me, “Alan, you have
such a nice congregation!” Of course I had to agree. And as nice as it was to
go running in the sunshine and warm temperatures of San Juan, I am truly glad
to be back. This is my home and I am called to serve this congregation and no
other. This is where I belong.
Still,
the trip to Puerto Rico was my first vacation since I started here. In fact, it
was my first real vacation in many years. It was also my first time on an
airplane since I’d been ordained. I didn’t think about this when I was leaving,
but for the first time in years, I had a new answer to the question, “What do
you do for a living?” For several years I’d been working toward the answer—I’m
a Presbyterian minister—but I didn’t get asked that question until last
Saturday.
On my
way back from San Juan I sat next to a woman named Nancy and she asked me about
the book I was reading and then she asked me what I did for a living. I told
her I was a Presbyterian pastor. She told me she was a Methodist. She also told me that she and her husband
were very active in their church. We were beginning to hit it off when I
finally introduced myself. Then she told me that her husband was named
Alan—spelled the same way—but he usually goes by Al. I said, “What a
coincidence; I often go by Al, too.” We had a good laugh about that. I knew it
was going to be a good flight.
We’d
been talking for some time when she asked me how it was that I had switched
careers at this point in my life. She was a little hesitant when she asked—she
was concerned that she was asking too personal a question. While it is a very
personal question, it’s the kind of thing that I spent a lot of time talking
about while I was in seminary. In fact, one of the major functions of a
seminary education is learning to put theological language around your personal
experiences. I was happy to share my story with Nancy. And as I was looking at
this week’s reading from the Gospel of Luke, it occurred to me that this might
be a good time to share one of those experiences with you folks, too.
As
I’ve told some of you, my sense of call crystallized in 2010 when I
participated in a mission trip to Nicaragua. Now I can’t tell you that I had
some great epiphany or road-to-Damascus conversion experience. I didn’t witness
the transfiguration, like Peter, but I did have a mountaintop experience. It
took me several months to process that experience. My sense of call came out of
the work that I did to process my experiences in Nicaragua and discerning how
God was calling me to serve.
At
that time I was a member of Sixth Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh. That
congregation has a relationship with a coffee farm in Nicaragua. The name of
that farm community is El Porvenir,
which is Spanish for, The Future. El
Porvenir is located on the side of a mountain, smack dab in the middle of
nowhere.
We
stayed at a building that belonged to the entire community. It was the building
where they stored the coffee after it had been harvested and dried. The
building had a wide veranda and we set up our cots on the far side, overlooking
a wide valley at the foot of the mountain. I have to tell you, the view was
incredible. Nicaragua is a lush, green country. It gets lots of rain and it has
volcanic soil; it’s ideal for farming. It’s also very warm down there. In the
lowlands, daily temperatures are usually about ninety or ninety-five degrees
and the humidity usually runs somewhere between seventy and eighty percent. Now
I’ll grant you, those temps sound pretty nice in February, in western
Pennsylvania, but trust me, after a couple hours, it gets oppressive. The
conditions at El Porvenir were a bit
more comfortable. Temperatures were in the mid- to high-eighties, while the
humidity dropped to a tolerable sixty percent, or so. The low temps at night
were in the mid-sixties. Remember, we were sleeping outside. And before you
start getting jealous, I should also add that there was no electricity or
running water at El Porvenir. It was
quite . . . rustic.
I
should also mention that one of our members, Sara, was originally from
Nicaragua. She and her husband, Chris, had visited Nicaragua many times they
are both fluent Spanish speakers, and they were the ones who organized the
trip. We had one other fluent Spanish speaker on the trip and it wasn’t me.
On
our second night on the co-op, as we were doing our evening devotions, a woman
from the community came to speak with us. Her fifteen-year-old daughter was
beginning to go into labor. There was a midwife in the community, but because
this girl was so young, and also because it was her first child, the girl’s
mother and the midwife both thought it would be best if the girl went to a
hospital. The nearest hospital was in the city of León, which was about three
hours away by car. And because our group had a truck, we were asked to take the
girl and her mother to the hospital. This was at about 8:30 at night—it was
pitch black outside. Also, we were down to our last 5-gallon jug of purified
water. Chris and Sara would get water while they were in the city, but we had
no idea when they would get back and we had no means of contacting them while
they were gone. And we had only one fluent Spanish speaker remaining in our
group.
This
was a scary moment, to say the least. We were in a remote location, with a
reduced capacity to communicate with our hosts. It was really easy to think
about all of the nightmare scenarios: What if something happens to Chris and
Sara? What if we run out of drinkable water? In that moment, I had to let go
and trust God completely. Before that time, the idea of trusting in God to
provide for me and to protect me, that was just an abstract idea. Trusting in
God is a spiritual way of being—a way of being that was new to me, that I was
unable to live into before this experience in Nicaragua. I should also add that
trusting and letting go are difficult things for me, but on that farm in
Nicaragua, I was boxed in. I had two options: I could fall into the pit of fear
and despair or I could let go and trust in God.
I let
go. I embraced God’s overwhelming love and let go of my worries. It wasn’t
easy, but I’m sure that I wouldn’t be here this morning if I hadn’t been able
to trust God in that moment. After we all got back—safe and sound, all ten of
us—we began the challenging work of processing our experiences. For me, as I
processed everything that happened on that trip, my sense of call began to
crystallize. I had thought about entering the seminary before I went to
Nicaragua, but I didn’t have that sense of call. After I had processed the
experiences from that trip, I knew that I needed to go to seminary—that I was
called to do this.
I offer
this story of my own sense of call because it represents a mountaintop
experience. Of course it is quite different from the story of the
transfiguration, but there is something important about these kinds of
experiences. Moses received the Ten Commandments on a mountaintop. Jesus is
transfigured on a mountaintop. Mountains represent a thin place, where the
boundaries between heaven and earth are blurred. Mountains are isolated places,
where great truths are revealed.
That
is certainly the case in this morning’s lesson from the Gospel of Luke. Jesus
ascends the mountain with his closest disciples, Peter, James, and John. And
they see something miraculous: they see Jesus transfigured; they see a vision
of Elijah and Moses; they hear the voice of God saying of Jesus, “This is my
Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”
This
story is about Jesus and his true identity. It is also a story about the
disciples and their response to Jesus, and this is where we fit into the story:
The intimate
relationship between Jesus and his disciples forms the underlying structure
[for this passage] and it also provides a basic link between this ancient
writing and our lives today. This gospel is written for disciples of every age;
the disciples often stand for the evangelist’s church or simply the Christian
community. Similarly, the Twelve represent church leaders in any age.[1]
Simply put: the disciples are us! We are human; the
disciples are human. Jesus is the Son of God, the Word made flesh. We are
human, fallible and limited in our understanding, just like the disciples. At
every turn, they show that they don’t quite understand who Jesus is or exactly
how they’re supposed to follow him.
We
see that very clearly in this account of the transfiguration. The fancy
seminary term for what happened on that mountain is a theophany. That is,
Peter, James, and John had a direct encounter with the presence of God! Jesus’
clothes “became dazzling white.” This calls to mind the radiance that was
reflected in the face of Moses after Moses spoke with God on Mt. Sinai.[2]
And hey, in case we didn’t catch that reference, look! There’s Moses on the
mountaintop, along with Elijah! And then the voice of God comes out of a
cloud—again, just as it came to Moses, during the Exodus.[3]
But Peter doesn’t fall to his knees and say to Jesus, “oh, Lord, what may we do
to serve you better?” No. Peter wants to build three dwelling places. He wants
to find a way to stay in the moment, to make the experience on the mountaintop
last. Peter wants to stay there.
This
is where my mountaintop experience is quite different from that of Peter,
James, and John. I didn’t want to build a dwelling place—none of us did. We had
a schedule to keep. And besides, that experience—having our trip leaders leave
us, and having no way to contact them—that was truly frightening! We did NOT
want to remain in that experience. But like the disciples, we could not truly
appreciate the significance of what happened to us in those moments. And that’s
the thing, God knows we are human and
fallible; God knows we don’t always
get it right the first time. So God gives us constant reminders: “This is my
Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” God isn’t speaking to Moses and Elijah. God is
speaking directly to Peter, James, and John. And by extension, God is speaking
directly to us.
Sometimes
we want to stay on the mountain, other times we know we have to leave. The
truth is we’re not called to build tabernacles or shrines or monuments to our
own experiences. No. We are called to come down off the mountain and tell our
stories. There can be no doubt that Peter encountered the Son of God, the
Messiah. This is where we are different from the disciples in this story: we
don’t always know when we have encountered God. And sometimes our greatest
moments of insight occur many months after we have encountered God. Even still,
how do we know for sure?
The
truth is we don’t always know for sure. So we share our stories with one
another. We listen. Constantly. We reflect on our own experiences and we come
to God in prayer and humility. We ask for guidance and clarity. We open
ourselves up to the movement of the Holy Spirit in our lives. We let go and
trust in God. These, too, are spiritual practices.
As we
engage in these practices, we come to terms with our own experiences of God. We
grow in our faith and we learn how to talk about our faith with others. We are called to come down from the
mountaintop and show visible signs of God’s grace in the world. It’s okay if we
don’t get it right from the start, but we must never forget that we are called
to share that love. Thanks be to God. Amen!
Benediction
Now,
beloved, as you depart from this place, remember that we are called to come
down from the mountains and share our stories. We are called to be disciples
and we are called to reach out to one another. Sometimes this work is
difficult, but it’s our work, all the same. So go forth and be instruments of
God’s peace and reconciliation. Do not return evil for evil to any person, but
know that we are all loved by God, and that we are called to reflect that love
to everyone we meet. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, let all God’s
children say, Amen!
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