Psalm 36:5-10 on March 2nd, 2025
Above is audio of the sermon pulled from the video and amplified.
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We love the mountain top experiences, those moments when God feels near where faith is clear, where everything just seems to make sense. And maybe you've had one on a retreat or at a worship service when you felt something deep in your soul. We wish we could just stay in that moment forever. And the disciples must have felt the same way at Jesus' transfiguration. His face and clothes shine like lightning and suddenly Moses and Elijah appear representing the law and the prophets, but also signaling that something bigger is happening. They talk with Jesus about his exodus, the journey that he must fulfill in Jerusalem. And Peter, overwhelmed, jumps into action. Let's stay. I'll build tents, but a voice from the cloud interrupts. This is my son, my chosen, listen to him. And then time to go back down the mountain.
And that's a typical theme that we have in life. We get a glimpse of the glory of God, but we don't get to stay there. We have to come back down the mountain, back to real, regular life, back to complications, chaos and struggles. Luke makes sure that we don't miss that contrast. The moment Jesus reaches the bottom reality hits a desperate father with a suffering child, a crowd that still doesn't understand declaration that the son of man will be betrayed. The disparity is startling from heavenly glory to a human mess, from bright lights to shadowed struggle, from certain hope to certain disappointment.
In a way, we at St. Philip are coming off of a mountain. There have been years of planning, excitement and a vision for the future. There is hope, anticipation and even a little bit of nervous energy. But we've had to come down out of the holiness of our sanctuary and to a time of transition and work. Just as Peter wanted to build tents and stay put, there's comfort in what has been. But even still, Jesus calls us down the mountain.
Jesus, despite Peter's desires, doesn't stay on the mountain top. He walks right back down into the reality of pain, illness and confusion. Which makes me think that maybe we've misunderstood that whole mountain top analogy. Maybe God's glory isn't up there and real life is down here. Maybe instead God's glory comes down the mountain too. But Jesus doesn't keep to mountain top experiences, but brings those experiences into our daily lives. And that gives me hope to keep moving through the struggle. Because we catch a glimpse of God's glory, not just on the mountain top, but also in the journey that follows.
God isn't done yet. Jesus' story doesn't end in that dazzling light. It keeps unfolding, leading him forward in God's purpose. And just as God had planned for us, a future already breaking into our lives, calling us forward in faith. So where do we see God's glory now? Well, not just in a sanctuary that we left behind, but in the here and now, in the journey, in the work, in the fellowship hall where we gather, in those ordinary rhythms of life. God's future doesn't just stay up on a mountain top. It meets us here and now.
And it defers their emphasize that God is not yet done. The transfiguration is this turning point in Jesus' story and a turning point for us. While the disciples don't yet know where Jesus is heading, most of us do. And for the next 40 days or so of length, we will walk toward another mountain, not one of shine Jesus shine, but one covered in shadow. And there again, Jesus is lifted up. He has two men with him, but not Moses and Elijah, two criminals. He's shown to be a different kind of Messiah than the disciples were expecting. Whereas on the mountain of transfiguration, we catch a glimpse of the divinity of Jesus, literally shining through in the crucifixion, we get a glimpse more than a glimpse of what that radiant divinity is for. And it's for us.
Because the end isn't the end. Even the end isn't the end. The story keeps going. And the remarkable thing is that the glory on the top of the mountain isn't separate from what happens at the bottom. It isn't a brief dazzling interruption before everything goes back to normal. It isn't a distant memory that is only meant for a mountain top. Because Jesus's true glory is not to be found in a changed face or clothes of dazzling white, but in nailed hands and crowns of thorns. His true glory is for the salvation of the world. His true glory is for us. His glory isn't about spectacle. It's about self-giving love. His glory isn't about saying safe on a mountain top. It's about stepping into suffering in our world and then transforming it.
I mean, even in betrayal, even in that final piece of the story, even in a cross, in pain, and in death. Oh, yeah. That is truly where God's glory shines the brightest. Not just in dazzling appearances, but self-giving love. Not in a changed face and shining robes, but in arms stretched out in love for the sake of the world. Because the end is not the end. Instead we get a glimpse of God's future. Not what will be for a fleeting moment, but what God truly has in store for the world. A future where suffering does not have the final word, where life is redeemed, where love wins. God has not done yet. And maybe that gives us all a little bit of hope.
And even today, that glorious future breaking into our present, like in the Transfiguration baptism reveals who we truly are, beloved children of God. But we don't stay tied to the font. We are set loose in the world, bearing the light of Christ and in the messiness of our lives. Communion is a meal that sustains us for the journey just as the Transfiguration gave us a full taste of what was to come. Bread and water ordinary things, and yet they bear that presence of Christ. And just like God to take the ordinary and make it holy, to take suffering and transform it into glory, we don't just glimpse God's glory in mountain top moments. We get to touch it, taste it, receive it in those sacraments. We share it in community, in a fellowship hall, in our ordinary lives. God's glory is breaking through. It reaches out and grabs us, pulling us forward, and that changes everything.
I mean, of course, we haven't arrived yet. There's still suffering, there's still struggle, there are still days where we wonder how in the world we're going to keep going. What we do, because God shows us how the story ends. We know that God has not done yet. The Transfiguration gives us a vision of where God is going. So a future, a future so full of hope that it compels us, it claims us, it propels us forward. And we keep moving because we trust the promise that the same God who's shown on the mountain top walks with us in the valleys, in that future. The one that we long for, the one that we glimpse in Jesus, it's already reaching into our present, calling us to step forward. Step forward in faith together. Amen.