“TRANSFORMING VISION”
Text:
Mark 9:1-8
February 2008
It seems like just yesterday that we celebrated the season of Advent and its climax on Christmas
Day. It feels like just moments ago (at least from the pastor’s perspective) that we experienced the
season of Epiphany, and its emphasis on the disclosure of God through Jesus Christ, Light of the
world. Yet here we are today - already - nearing the start of the liturgical season of Lent which
begins on Ash Wednesday, just three days from now; a season which has its climax when we
celebrate the resurrection of our Lord on Easter Sunday. As with Advent, Lent provides us a period
during which to deliberately reflect on the meaning of our lives; to spiritually prepare ourselves for
the manifestation of Christ, not in a lowly manger, but upon a rugged cross, then ultimately from an
empty tomb.
On their way home from attending the annual Ash Wednesday service, nine year-old Jimmy
asked his mother, “Is it true, mommy, that we are made from dust like the minister said tonight?”
“Yes dear,” his mother replied. “And is it true that we go back to dust again when we die?” “Yes
Jimmy,” his mom answered. “Well mommy, when I said my prayers last night and looked under my
bed, I saw a bunch of people who were either coming or going.”
Ash Wednesday marks the commencement of a forty day spiritual journey which begs to be spent
in regular and intense prayer, examining our lives and looking around our spiritual rooms; exploring
under our beds and even into the darkest corners; doing a spring cleaning of sorts of our spiritual
houses which will help us fully appreciate the cleansing that God’s sacrifice in Christ affords us. This
Wednesday coming, we will gather for a time of praise, reflection, acknowledgment of our brokeness,
and celebration of the wholeness we receive through the grace of Christ. This will begin our personal
and community pilgrimage toward the cross. But before we go there, this morning we focus our
attention on an event recorded in three of the four gospels; an event we’ve come to call “the
transfiguration of the Lord.” Let us read Mark’s account of this mountaintop experience.
(Read Mark 9:1-8)
The transfiguration of Jesus Christ was nothing short of a profound mountaintop revelation for
three of His closest friends. Peter, James and John experienced something which no one before them,
nor anyone since, has experienced. How blessed we are to have a record of this event preserved in
God’s written word.
Those which we call “mountaintop experiences” abound in our world, yet few if any of them quite
as dramatic as the transfiguration we read about this morning. But in sharing over these past fifteen
years with many people about their spiritual lives and spiritual encounters, I’ve come to learn some
things about mountaintop experiences; those moments or passages in life when we’re somehow lifted
higher or touched deeper than we’d ever been lifted or touched before; moments or passages so many
of us have personally known.
First, the mountaintop experience is an intensely personal event, even though others might be
within the same context, as the three disciples were. Second, and nevertheless, there seems to be a
common range of emotion and feelings which go along with such an experience; things like euphoria -
a natural high; an intense spiritual openness and keen otherworldly awareness; a profound sense of
closeness to the Divinity. Often, these experiences are accompanied by strong outpourings of passions
from crying to laughter, and usually carry with them a great sense of well-being, like when we wake up
from that dream which we wish could go on forever. Then there is a third dimension of a mountaintop
experience which is perhaps the most significant. I call it transforming vision. During and following the
experience, the individual (and perhaps the entire community of which he or she is a part) sees and
understands God, the world, others, and themselves in a radically fresh, enlightened and enriched way.
In other words, the experience is life-changing!
Many vocational decisions grow out of mountaintop experiences. There’s the story of an obstetrician
who describes his experience. “I was doing my first rotation in the OB/GYN ward as an intern when I
was the one to deliver a baby because the attending physician had not yet arrived. When I caught that
baby as she was being born, I sensed the miracle of what had previously been for me only clinical. I knew
from then on what kind of physician I would be. It was awesome!”
Then there is the faith-sustaining and faith-building element of the mountaintop experience. I’ve
shared this particular story with many of you, both individually and in worship, but it’s a story worth
repeating. If my departed mother were here this morning, she’d probably be hesitant to tell the story
herself. But I’ve become the reservoir and the voice for an event which meant a great deal to her, and
means a great deal to me. (mom’s story of grandpap Ogilvie’s interment)
For Peter, James and John, their mountaintop experience was both faith-sustaining and faith-building,
as well as directing them in their vocations – in what they would spend the rest of their lives doing. When
Jesus took these three inner-circle disciples to the pinnacle with Him, they were granted a vision of God’s
glory in the person of Christ. In the words of that great Fanny Crosby hymn we’ll be singing to close our
service this morning, “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine, O what a foretaste of glory divine.” Within this
vision, the disciples three were also able to see Jesus conversing with long-departed Moses and Elijah.
Theologically, they saw Jesus in conversation with the Law and the prophets. For going on three years,
the disciples had walked alongside, talked to, listened to, argued with, and traveled with Jesus throughout
the Palestine countryside. But never again in their earthly lives would they see Jesus as they had seen Him
before His transfiguration. Never again would they see the world in the same way, or themselves. They
had been raised to a new level of faith which would accompany them through the tragic events which
awaited them in Jerusalem, much as Moses had after his encounter with God on Mt. Sinai; raised to a new
level of faith which would shore him up against the many controversies and battles he would face in
leading the people to the promised land. Now, Peter, James and John knew Jesus their rabbi, their friend,
as Lord of the universe; God’s reaffirmation of what was revealed upon the occasion of Jesus’ baptism:
“This is my Son, the Beloved....” Now, they could begin to understand their own calls to follow Him.
Now, they realized that their vocation in life was to tell the world that, indeed, God is here. In that event
that we call “the transfiguration,” the lives of three fishermen were transformed forever into fishers of
men.
I would propose that it’s the same for us. The mountaintop experiences of our lives offer us a vision
to see what God intends for us and for the world. Focusing through new lenses of faith and purpose, we
can look at a family suffering the pain of brokeness, and see what God can do to make them whole again.
We can look at people who have lost jobs, faced illness, dealt with addiction, been victims of abuse, and
see Jesus holding on to them and keeping them close. We can look at problems, and see opportunities.
We can look at empty fields, unused buildings, and unhappy people, and catch a vision of the great
potential that waits there, yet unrevealed and unlocked. In the midst of our heartbreak over loss, we –
like my mother was – can be uplifted into hope and assurance. When we are taken to the mountaintop,
however that might be played out for us, that transforming vision adds a new dimension to our faith, and
fresh guidance to our lives.
As we approach the Lord’s table this morning, nearing the starting line of our Lenten journey, we first
join Peter, James and John on that mountain of transfiguration, and are privy to a revelation of God’s glory
in His beloved Son. And in so doing, we open ourselves to God’s vision for our lives. May the glory of
the Lord lead us – lift us – into this Lenten season.