​Holy God,
God of Transfiguration,
Host of Sacred Moments,
bring us with you to the mountaintop
to pray.
Keep us awake
that we might be present
for conversation with you
and with all the law and the prophets
in order to more fully understand
God’s fulfillment of them
in you.
As you reveal yourself to us
in shining moments, open not just our eyes
but also our ears
that we might truly hear you
as you teach us all that the law and the prophets
have to say about your extravagant grace.
Be clear in your direction
for we who are slow to understand,
and help us to grasp the breadth and depth
of the work that awaits us when we return to the valley
that we might daily be fueled
by the vision of holiness
we carry in our hearts.
Give us language to express
the sacred in the mundane
that we might share our experience of you
with all who are thirsting for a holy encounter
of their own.

I remember driving home from a training weekend early in my Commissioned Pastor training on a high that I'm fairly certain could never be matched by a high from drugs. I was making new friends in ministry circles. I was learning things that were expanding my understanding. I was drawing closer to God through scripture and fellowship, worship and Communion. It was glorious. Like Peter, James, and John, I was present for holy moments that could not be fully described. There were no words in the English language capable of conveying to people who were not there in the moment what glory those moments held. I remember a song forming as I drove home on 255: "Just a few more minutes on the mountain, Lord, a little bit longer here with you. I know what waits in the valley, Lord, there's so much work for me to do! Just a few more minutes on the mountain, Lord, a little bit longer here with you. One more prayer and one more song, and one last look at the view."

I would imagine Peter was thinking similar thoughts when he suggested the tents. For the record, that's not a positive thing. ;) But it does give me a bit of an understanding of where the disciples were when they climbed the mount of Transfiguration. It's easy to get caught up in the moments of wonder, the splendor of holiness, the sheer joy of an experience of God in Christ. But, like Peter, if that is our only focus, we fail to acknowledge what God is doing. That moment of transfiguration when Elijah and Moses joined Jesus on the mountaintop was a moment of communal agreement. All the law and prophecies, represented by Moses and Elijah, were coming to fruition. God-with-us was facing the moment when all God's promises would be fulfilled, and Peter was worried about building tents, so he could stay and bask in the glory indefinitely. 

Don't get me wrong: moments of sacred splendor that occur when Christ's presence is undeniably glorious are holy indeed. They provide glimpses into the wonder of Heaven ... the promises of eternity ... and that fuels us when we go down the mountain, but they aren't the norm. The norm for Jesus himself and for his disciples was the day in and day out ministry of healing and teaching and preaching and prayer. 

I remember each of the moments when I met our children for the first time. These were sacred moments indeed. Moments when the veil was lifted, and Heaven could be glimpsed in all its wonder and glory. The miracle of birth and the unbelievable joy of sitting in that moment is a grace beyond measure. But parenthood is not that single moment. Parenthood is day to day, week to week, month to month, year to year attentiveness. It is a continual process in the muck and mud. There are many shining moments of joy and celebration, but there are also hours and hours of no sleep and dirty diapers, of fixing meals and doing laundry, of listening and learning and guiding and growing. It is communal, and it is exhausting, and it is so worth it, but oh ... it lasts well beyond that mountain-top moment when you open your eyes to see the glory of a miracle made manifest. We can't erect tents and stay in the hospital birthing room. We have to go home -- without an instruction manual -- and do our best to follow instincts that are guided by love. 

God's voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at once saying, "This is my Son! This is the One I have chosen! Listen to Him!" (vs. 35, The VOICE) is the reminder that we cannot just gaze on the glory of Transfiguration, building tents in holy spaces and living there. We have to make our way back into the valley of day by day living sustained by that moment, but focused on the end-goal: the continuation of kin-dom work in the name of the One who has called us to it. 

May it be so.

Jesus on the Mountain Peak
We Have Come at Christ's Own Bidding
You, Lord, are Both Lamb and Shepherd
Shine, Jesus, Shine
Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord
God Is Here Today
Jesus, Take Us to the Mountain
​Holy Ground

Call to Confession

One thing I asked of the Lord,
    that will I seek after:
to live in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of the Lord,
    and to inquire in his temple. (Psalm 27:4)
Let us confess our sin before God, and seek God’s extravagant mercy.
 
Prayer of Confession, Transfiguration Sunday

Babblers, Lord.
That’s what we are.
Sleepy babblers.
Seeing, but not perceiving …
Hearing, but not understanding …
we jump in the middle
of a critical moment
babbling responses
to existential questions
we don’t even know
how to articulate.
Forgive us, God.
Forgive our foolishness.
Forgive our egocentricity.
Forgive our ignorance.
Open the eyes of our hearts,
Lord.
Help us to grasp
the gravity of the moment,
the holiness of your presence
among us,
and the fulfillment of promises
long made.
Keep us awake to pray.
Keep us alert to your activity.
Ready us to go back down the mountain
and to greet what awaits us
in the valley of the shadow of death
that we may be strengthened
for the ministry you call us
to do.

Assurance of God’s Grace

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:16-17) Hear the Good News: In the name of Jesus Christ we are forgiven! Thanks be to God!

Since God has forgiven us in Christ, let us also forgive one another.
The peace of Christ be with you.
Please extend the peace of Christ to all whom you encounter this week. 

Climb the mountain, you weary ones,
weighed down with sleep,
who are fighting to stay awake and present to God.            
Climb the mountain, you weary ones,
longing for an encounter with the holy
without even knowing it.
Climb the mountain, you weary ones,
who have walked with Jesus                                                                          
and still do not understand
who Jesus is
or what Jesus is calling you
to do.
Climb the mountain
and worship the Holy One of God,
so that you can better accompany,
and witness to,
those who are also weary
and could not make the climb.

Hear our prayers, O God!
Hear our prayers for the enemy that lives
within us,
alongside us,
among us,
and around us.
Hear our prayers for healing and wholeness,
for transformation and reconciliation,
for justice that is both merciful
and restorative.
Hear, also, our earnest prayers for courage
and compassion,
for hope
and help,
for forgiveness
and grace
and welcome
in the name of the One whose love is greater
than hatred,
whose kindness overwhelms
cruelty,
and whose forgiveness
is beyond our comprehension.
Erase our isms, Lord,
and our fear of the other,
that we might look into the eyes of our neighbors
and see only a reflection of you.

Tucked into this week's gospel passage is one little verse known as The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you (Luke 6:31). Often this verse is interpreted as literally giving someone else what you want. I would like a Reese's peanut butter cup, so I'll give you one. I would like to have my car washed, so I'll offer to wash yours. I would like to hear that I've done a good job, so I'll tell you that you have. I would like a comforting hug, so I'll give you one. I need time with a good friend when I'm down, so I will assume that since you looked pensive today, you need me to take you to lunch. These all sound like very thoughtful things, but the focus is on the wrong person. The focus in each of these thoughts is "I/me" instead of you. 

What if you are allergic to peanuts? What if you just washed your car yesterday? or don't even have a car? What if you are comfortable with the quality of your work, and my opinion is really of no consequence? What if I have no idea what constitutes "a good job" in your particular situation? What if someone touching you makes you anxious or triggers a terrible memory or sets loose emotions just under the surface that you aren't prepared to share?  What if lunch with me is the last thing you need today because what you really need is for people to respect your boundaries of time and space? Do you see the problem here? Interpreted literally, this verse is not golden at all. Instead, it is incredibly selfish, and could even be unkind.

You may recognize that the five offerings in the first paragraph are reflective of the five love languages described by author, Gary Chapman: gifts, acts of service, words of encouragement, physical touch, and quality time. According to Chapman, we each have our own primary love language in which we can hear someone say, "I love you," and process it appropriately. When I work with couples in pre-marital counseling, we explore their love languages early on in an effort to identify each one's primary language and find ways to express that in a way that it is heard and understood. Chapman worked with Paul White and the same languages to show appreciation in the workplace, but the key to both is paying attention to the other person's needs the same way you would want your partner or coworker to think about you. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

I have a friend who has been single for many years. When she underwent surgery, the deacons in her church lined up two meals per day for her for weeks after. It was incredibly thoughtful of them to care for her, and she appreciated it tremendously because there was no family nearby to assist her. Her church stepped in as family to offer support, and she understood that. But every person brought a full family-sized meal, and every single one that brought a salad brought an entire bottle of salad dressing. She had one refrigerator for her one self. Storage rapidly became an issue. Waste rapidly became an issue. There was only so much room, even for freezing portions of the meal for future consumption. Had she been consulted, she could have named what she thought she might need. She could have said, "A single serving plate will be more than enough, thank you," or "I'm fine with leftovers, so that I would only need a couple of family-sized meals per week" (instead of per day). But no one asked.

Robert Lupton talks about this in Toxic Charity: How Churches Hurt Those They Help and How to Reverse It. In our rush to "help," we end up hurting because we impose what we think is needed on the object of our assistance. That's how we see others sometimes ... as objects of our good intentions. But at the other end of assistance is a person or a group of people whose needs may be different than we assume. It's as simple as asking what someone needs instead of deciding for them. Even if I come from the same culture, community, family as you, my experience can be different. I am different. You cannot know what I need based on your experience. So ask. Just ask. That's all.  Ask "What do you need?" Ask "How can I help?"

This is the spirit of the Golden Rule. Show the same respect you would want to receive. Show the same thoughtfulness you would want someone else to show you. This sums up the entire challenging passage. If all of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23) (and in case you were wondering, we have), then we do not just have enemies, we are enemies. Someone calls us "the other." Someone sees us as a threat. Maybe we have given them reason to feel that way. Maybe we haven't personally, but someone else has. Regardless, if we would want a second chance, if we would hope for reconciliation, if we would desire an opportunity to amend our shortcomings and receive forgiveness, then this is what we, too, are called to do. May it be so.

Lord, Make Us Instruments of Your Peace
Healer of Our Every Ill
Help Us Accept Each Other
Heaven Shall Not Wait
Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven
O God, My Faithful God
God Weeps

You hated, you hoarders, you cursed and abused,
come worship the God of mercy.

You transactional, ungrateful, “wicked” and hateful,
come worship the God of transformation.

You judgers, condemners; you who are carrying a grudge,
come worship the God of compassion.

You are welcome here.
This is a place of grace.