On the Mountain with Jesus
Transfiguration Sunday--Mark 9:2-9
Belmont UMC—February 19, 2012
Ken Edwards, preaching

Audio - MP3

When I was 18 years old I had an experience of spiritual renewal. I was a college student at the time in the early months of my freshman year. The nation was in an uproar, people my age were being drafted and heading to a war in Viet Nam. We had witnessed the assassinations of a president, his brother, and a beloved civil rights leader. There were riots and sit-ins on college campuses and at the seats of government. In hindsight it seemed to be an odd time for me to find a way back into the faith of my childhood. It was an unsettling time and it may be that my soul longed for a peaceful refuge in a new relationship with Jesus Christ.    

There was a place on the college campus where I would go to get away and be alone. There was one hill on campus and on top of that hill was a deserted old brick house. In front of the house was a huge old oak tree that appeared to have weathered many storms. I’d sit on the steps of the house and read, pray and reflect. One sunny, warm day as I was sitting on the steps, I looked down the hill. The limbs from the tree formed a shadow in the shape of the cross and a wonderful sense of peace and assurance flooded me. It was quite stunning and I sat there for a long time basking in the sense that God was very much with me.

I share this story so that you will pause and remember those times when you were surprised by a sense of God’s presence. Those experiences can be filled with wonder and awe or they can be a bit unsettling as well.

Frederick Buechner describes his own experience as he writes of surprising tears that came to him in a Presbyterian church one day, tears that came after a passionate search to know God and put a face with the mystery that seemed to seek him out. That face was the face of Christ. He writes, “I wanted learn more about those tears and the object of that astonishment. I wanted to know, and be known by, people who knew greatly more about Christ than I did, were greatly closer to him than I was, greatly more aware of what they were about and of what he was about in them.”  (Listening to Your Life, pp. 30-31)

Jesus took three of his disciples up a high mountain to be by themselves, apart from the others. It was not unusual for Jesus to retreat to a quiet place to pray, but on this day something quite remarkable happened. Jesus was changed in front of them and his clothes became extraordinarily white and there appeared with him 2 prominent characters in Hebrew history, Moses and Elijah, persons who had had their own mountain top experiences with God.

The experience was surprising and terrifying for the disciples. Peter says, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make 3 shrines—one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” The next sentence is quite human. “He said this because he didn’t know how to respond, for the three of them were terrified.” (verses 5-6; CEB) Peter feels a need to speak, to fill the void, to distract them from their fear, to take control of the situation, to make sense of what has happening, or . . .  How like us to feel a need to control that which we cannot explain!

When I shared my experience on the hillside with my friends, they all wanted to know what the experience meant. Was it a sign? What are you supposed to do with the experience? Their questions puzzled me. I had been so caught up in the wonder and awe of the experience it had not occurred to me to look for a reason and try to define the experience in any way. When I look back on that day I’m grateful to have moments when I sense God’s reassuring presence and that alone is good enough for me. I suspect our best response to those moments of surprising grace is one of awe and wonder.

Peter’s words on the mountain remind me of something my seminary history professor said once. He said that most of the great spiritual awakenings began among the laity. The clergy and the theologians always came along later and tried to tidy everything up. We seem to have a need to explain these theophanies, to codify them, to control them, to tone them down. Like Peter we fill the silence and the wonder with our talk, because we find the silence disconcerting. Or maybe we are afraid of where they will call us; maybe we know that the Transfiguration story means that the journey to Lent is near.

I remember a Father’s Day weekend when the three sons went with me to Six Flags in Atlanta. It was our youngest son’s first time at a big amusement park. He had been on small rides at the county fair but he’s never seen a roller coaster like the one we boarded as our first ride that day. As the cars made their slow grinding ascent up the first mountainous hill, he said, “But Dad, it’s so slow.”  I replied, “Just wait.” He was frustrated by the ascent. But at the top of the hill, the brakes were released and we felt like we were flying downward. I looked over at the little boy’s face to see the look of joy and fear.

We have been making the slow, but steady ascent up the mountain of the Transfiguration, and we are reluctant because we know on the other side of the mountain is the journey to Lent, a journey that can be one of wonder and maybe a little fear—especially if we allow the Lenten journey to speak to us of a closer walk with God.

The Continental Divide is the great watershed divide where all the waters on the west flow toward the Pacific Ocean and the waters on the east flow toward the Atlantic Ocean. The Mount of Transfiguration is that great divide, after which, the activities of Jesus and the disciples flow toward Jerusalem, the cross, and the resurrection. After today we begin our descent to begin the journey of Lent.

In the Gospel story Peter’s suggestion of building shrines is silenced by a cloud and a clear voice from the cloud. The voice is the same voice we heard at the beginning of Epiphany at the baptism of Jesus. The voice says, “This is my son, my beloved, listen to him!” This mountain top experience is about Jesus, about listening to him, about focusing on who he is and what he is saying to us about God.


It is clear throughout this section of the Gospel of Mark that the disciples do not fully understand who Jesus is. Those who are on the margins understand who Jesus is. A man who is blind can see who Jesus is. A woman who is a Gentile understands. The demons understand. Over and over Jesus keeps asking the disciples why they don’t yet understand who he is and God’s purpose for him in this world. The disciples’ understanding is blinded by their ambition and their reluctance to hear Jesus teachings about the ultimate journey to Jerusalem.

Many of us are reading Bishop Rueben Job’s new book, Three Simple Questions. The book focuses on these questions: Who is God? Who am I? Who are we together? These questions formed the outline of Rueben’s sermon here on our Centennial Sunday in July of 2010. We have invited members of the Administrative Board to join in reading and reflecting on this book. And we invite all of you to study and reflect on this book during Lent and at our Wednesday night studies.

Bishop Rueben Job offers some insight into who this Jesus is and why we need to listen to him.  He writes, “The God Jesus reveals shatters all our little ideas about God and reveals a God who is author and creator of all there is. In Jesus we see a God who reverses the values of our culture and turns upside down our scheme of priorities, leaving us gasping at the sight of such bone-deep love, justice and mercy. In Jesus we see such bold and radical truth that we tremble in awe and then cry out for help as we try to practice the faithful way of living he demonstrated so splendidly.” (p. 21)

Today we spend a little time on the mountain with Jesus. Today we hear a clear voice that bids us to “Listen to him.” On Wednesday night we will gather here to begin our journey through Lent. On Wednesday we will be reminded that we are human, and always will be, and God is God, and always will be. On that journey we will be invited to trust God and God’s leading. On that journey, during a time when many voices will compete for our allegiance and following, we will be invited to listen to Jesus! As we listen we will be filled with wonder!