Jesus' Transfiguration - Matthew 17:1-9

Peggy Noonan, a regular contributor to the wall Street Journal, reflected on a book written by former Secretary of State Dean Acheson who served under President Harry Truman at the end of World War 2. The war was over; now what? No one knew. “Everyone is in the dark, looking for a switch. When you’re in the middle of history, the meaning of things is frightfully unclear. In real time, most things are obscure. ‘Only slowly did it dawn upon us that the whole world structure and order that we had inherited from the 19^th Century was gone’. World War 2, Cold War, post-Cold War, and now today – a new normal has emerged and continues to emerge…we just don’t know yet what it is.” (Concordia Seminary Magazine, Spring 2017, p. 5).

In the dark, looking for a switch. That’s a good image, isn’t it, for how it feels some days? We want to be better Christians, we want to read our Bibles more, we want to pray more faithfully, we want to be better husbands, wives, kids, we want to be more faithful in worship. Noble desires, but they lead us to think we gotta do something about it, we gotta fix it, we gotta make ourselves into better children of God. It’s as if you are trying to earn God’s attaboys and attagirls for what you’re doing.  

There’s a term for this idea that you gotta do something. It’s called “functional atheism.” Now, don’t mis-understand me. I’m not calling anyone here an atheist. I said functional atheism. Let me explain.

Functional atheism – as best as I can determine, this was coined by social observer Parker Palmer (ibid) -  is the misunderstanding that ultimate responsibility for everything rests with us. It’s the unconscious, unexamined conviction that if anything good is going to happen, we are the ones who are going to be making it happen. If, by definition, an atheist is a person who disbelieves or lacks belief in the existence of God or gods, a functional atheist is a Christian who acts as if they are greater than God. Either He isn’t doing what needs to be done, or He’s taking such a long time going at it that I can speed things up by doing it for Him. It’s the equivalent of putting God in a retirement home and telling Him He’s no longer needed. Not literally, of course – just functionally.

I submit that Peter is acting as a functional atheist.

When you go home today, read Matthew 16 and you’ll see what I mean. In the middle of chapter 16, Peter confesses Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the living God (16:16) and Jesus praises this confession as being heaven-sent. But when Jesus speaks clearly and plainly that He must go to Jerusalem and suffer and die at the hands of the Jewish leaders, Peter stands, and with the same mouth that confessed Jesus as the Son of God, rebukes Jesus. “This shall never happen to you, Lord!” he said. Peter doesn’t want Jesus to die, I can understand and sympathize with that emotion, but he has forgotten that this is what Jesus has come to do: be the once for all sacrifice for the world’s sins.

That was a week earlier. And, now here they are on the mountaintop. Just moments before, Peter – along with James and John - had seen Jesus transfigured, where His appearance became brighter and whiter than sunshine on fresh snow white. Where Jesus’ divinity had been hidden since His Bethlehem birth, on the mountain, His glory shone with all of its radiant brightness. If that’s not enough to stun Peter, James and John, Jesus is joined on the mountaintop with two of the Old Testament’s great heroes of faith: Moses, the great lawgiver, and Elijah, the great prophet. Jesus fulfills the law given through Moses, and is the one foretold by Elijah.

Matthew simply states that Moses and Elijah were talking with Jesus. Luke, however, gives us the fuller report. Elijah and Moses “spoke of Jesus’ departure, which He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.” In other words, they were speaking about His Passion, that He must suffer at the hands of the chief priests and scribes, be crucified, and with his death pay the full wages of sin with his own death.

No, no, no…not that crucifixion talk again, not that death talk, not that dying at the hands of the leaders. Peter was not ready for Jesus to go down to the valley of the shadow. If he could delay Jesus, if He could impede His descent from the holy mountain down to where Jesus’ enemies would be waiting, then all would be well. Peter has the chance to do something, to step in, to stop – or at least stall – Jesus from going back down the mountain. Peter’s not an atheist – he has just confessed Jesus as the Christ, remember? – but he has go to do something! Our translation says Peter offers to make tents, but the better translation is tabernacles – think Old Testament tent of worship. Surely that will be acceptable and pleasing to Jesus. Peter can be a first century Solomon who builds a tabernacle in which Jesus might dwell along with Moses and Elijah so that they can all stay up on the mountain and live happily ever after. No death…no dying…none of that stuff we don’t want to talk about.

The group is suddenly swallowed by a cloud. Throughout the Scriptures, clouds are symbols of and even manifestations of the glory of God. Where moments earlier, Jesus face shown with the radiance of His glory, they are now overwhelmed by an even greater glory. If there is any doubt of what is taking place, the voice of the Father in heaven shatters the moment. “This is my beloved son. Listen to Him.”

Those words echo Jesus’ baptism where the Father spoke to Jesus, “You are my beloved Son.” The Father’s words re-focus the entire purpose of Jesus life and ministry. Jesus did not come to dwell in a tent built on top of a mountaintop. His purpose in ministry wasn’t to hide up in the clouds with two heroes of old and three disciples in training and live in blissful abandon. Jesus must go down the Mount of Transfiguration and then up the mountain of Zion, where Jerusalem sits, where the cross is waiting for Him; He will be arrested; He will be convicted; He will die abandoned and forsaken by everyone.

We are entering the season of Lent. It is a somber season, intended to be one of penitential reflection as we consider our own mortality and our own sinfulness. We will hear Jesus speak of His coming passion. We will see tensions rise between Him and His enemies and they will plot to kill him. We will ponder this incredible story of love once again, the perfectly sinless Son of God who becomes our substitute. The hymns become heavier, both in tone and in the theology they carry, and we will set aside the use of the word alleluia. Alleluia is a word of praise and celebration; Lent is not a time for that word, so we will “bury” it until Easter morning when we will mark it’s own resurrection with the Easter cry “Christ is risen, He is risen indeed, Alleluia!”

But we are not there, yet. First, we must listen to Him, and He says He must go down the mountain into the valley of the shadow. With Jesus we will descend the Mount of Transfiguration. We will journey with Jesus to the cross. But more than that, know that Jesus journeys with you as you carry your own cross this Lententide.

I am always amazed at Jesus’ action. He doesn't rub their faces in the dirt for dismissing Him and not listening to Him. He touches Peter and James and John. I imagine it as a firm, but gentle, grip on the arm, the kind of touch that says both “I love you,” but also gives direction. "Get up and don't be afraid." He doesn't leave them in their fear to teach them a lesson. No, He says, "Get up and leave your fears down there."  When the disciples lift up their eyes, Luke says, they saw no one but Jesus only.

Look to Jesus. It’s not as if He’s in a glass case labeled “Break Glass In Case of Emergency.” He is Christ is the Son of the Living God who has come into the world to rescue and redeem sinners like you, and like me, and Peter. He Look to Jesus  who stood on the Mount of Transfiguration and prepared to go to the cross for you.

Get up my friends. We're going down from this mountain with Jesus alone, and Jesus is enough. We're going with Him to dark Gethsemane, darker Calvary, and brighter Easter. When your sins burden you, look up and see Jesus only. Amen.

Blessed are the Poor in Spirit - Matthew 5:1-4

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

What does it look like to be poor in spirit? Good question. We are well aware with the poor – or, perhaps I should say, we have an idea of what the poor might entail. The government and academics have their criteria of what it takes to be classified as “poor,” but all it takes is a little observation to see. It’s been quite the topic in Victoria the last few months, with the controversy regarding people who are homeless and, presumably, poor. The poor are the people who live over on that side of town, or who live in those apartments, or who sit at the bus stop waiting for a ride to the dollar value shop to pick up a few things for a meager meal with their Lone Star Card. The poor line up for a weekly free meal at Christ’s Kitchen, for a bag of groceries at the food pantry, and for a utility voucher at VCAM. We look at  people standing at the loop and on street corners, signs begging for food or a few dollars, sometimes chuckling at a WAG’s sarcasm or wit -  “This sign is all my wife’s attorney left me” – or raw honesty – “Who are we kidding? A buck buys a Natty Lite.” Then, of course, there are those who are considered the working poor – there’s actually a fascinating book by David Shipler by that title - the ones who work minimum wage or so-called “dead-end” jobs with no possibility of ever getting ahead in life. But more often, we either stare straight ahead while pretending those folks – those people! – don’t exist, or we give them dirty looks that say, “Get a job, get an education, figure it out.”  These people are usually easy to identify and we generally keep them at at least a window’s distance from us.

That’s a sermon for another day.

Jesus speaks here, not of the poor but of the poor in spirit. Poverty of spirit is sometimes harder to see; it’s easier to hide spiritual poverty because a person’s conscience cannot be seen. But just like fancy clothes and a nice car can hide a business person’s bankruptcy – at least for a while – a person can put up a façade to make everyone think they are spiritually filled when, in reality, they are spiritually broke, broken, and busted.

So, what does the poor in spirit look like? Let me tell you about a man who I will call Peter. I’ve known Peter for a while, now, and we’ve had many interesting conversations. We have talked about our families, cooking, caring for others, and our churches. He’s a faithful Christian man, and he’s asked me Bible questions and requested prayers for himself and family. We saw each other, across the room, at the HEB Feast of Caring but we didn’t talk – he was busy hustling plates of food to hungry people. I know him as a faithful man of God.

Last week, I saw him in a new way. I saw him as a former king bee drug dealer of Victoria county. Since he was 10 years old, he and his sister were major coke and marijuana movers. They did it to survive because their parents were drug dealers, too, and between one thing and another – sometimes including run-ins with the law – the kids were often left at home and hungry. They sold drugs to buy food, at first, and clothes, but as the business grew to be more and more lucrative, their spending grew. It was nothing, he said, to drop two, three thousand dollars before lunch time because they knew they would make it all back and then some before they went to bed that night. They didn’t use – they were smart enough for that – but they still got in trouble. A deal went bad and he had a loaded shotgun waved in his face. He watched customers and a few friends die. He got picked up the first time by the police in a raid when he was a young teenager; a few years later, he got popped a second time. Lesson learned, right? He swore this time it would be different, and he would go straight, but the siren song of wealth from the old life and the financial need of the new life would rise up again and he would sell. All the while, he was going to church on Sunday mornings to hear the Word being read and preached, looking for a word of hope, comfort, help. “You know what, Pastor,” he told me. “I was tithing my drug money. The preacher probably knew it was from drugs, but he never took it out of the collection plate.”

Last week, as we visited, he told me he had long left that lifestyle behind. He and his wife work hard, each day, to make ends meet. He has a good job, and she works for kind and understanding people. They are attentive parents and are vigilant to make sure their kids don’t go down the road he journeyed down twenty years ago. They watch out for the kids friends, too, and they know where their kids are after school. They go to church, are active in the church caring ministry, and he reads his Bible every day. But there were days, he said, when the bills were mounting and the car breaks and the kids need clothes and the doctor’s bills are adding up that he and his wife think about the old lifestyle and how easy it would be, how tempting it is, to do it again, to make money, to be physically comfortable again. It’s not what he wants to do, but it seems like he needs to – just to take care of his family.

But as he talked, I could see him physically deflate. He was filled with sorrow and remorse at what he had done: to himself, to his family, to those he sold drugs to. He was filled with sadness at being tempted by the love of money, the desire for wealth and an easier life. He was absolutely crushed by the shame and guilt of what he had done, and was terrified at how strong the temptations are to go back to that life. He began weeping. “And, pastor, what does God think of me? I am so ashamed…”

Sometimes a sermon comes to life, not behind a desk with theological books nearby and an open study Bible. Sometimes it is preached, not from a pulpit, but across a coffee room, with two people sharing a Word of comfort and hope from Jesus.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,” I said. He looked at me. I repeated it again: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

I explained that the poor in spirit are those who know, without any doubt, just how desperately they need Jesus. The poor in spirit are spiritually bankrupt. They aren’t bad people. The poor in spirit come from all walks of life, from both sides of the tracks, regardless of the thickness of their wallet or the heft of the bank account, whether they have a 5000 acre spread or can’t afford the dirt stuck to the bottom of their shoes . The poor in spirit are children of God who realize just how sinful and sin-filled they are. They realize they can’t fix it, they can’t stop it, they can’t make it right. They are spiritually destitute and have no resources of their own. All they have is Jesus.

“The fact is, I told him, that everyone is poor in spirit. No one has enough of a spiritual portfolio to offer to the Lord in exchange for their freedom. No one has enough credit to pay off sin’s debt. No one has enough capitol to free themselves. The difference is that the poor in spirit who turn to Jesus are made whole.

“What the poor in spirit do have is to hear, receive and believe the Lord’s call to repent for the kingdom is at hand. In repentance, they admit it: they are poor in spirit. They repent: they are lost. They confess: they are sinners who are spiritually bankrupt with nothing to offer, hands that are empty and open like a beggar’s sack. And, in faith, they hold out those open hands to Jesus, who for our sakes, became poor, taking on the very nature of a servant. Not just any servant, but a suffering servant, a substitutionary servant who takes the place of the poor in spirit, dying the sinner’s death and declaring the debt paid in full with His blood.

Jesus calls the poor in spirit “blessed.” Some translations try to make this read “happy,” but that’s not good at all. Happiness is a feeling. A cup of coffee makes me happy; watching my dog race around the yard makes me happy, finishing a sermon on Thursday makes me happy. A blessing is a gift of God, a declaration, a statement that announces to the world, “This is true.” In the Beatitudes, Jesus declares His children are blessed in the situation, not from the situation.  In fact, when Jesus uses the word in Matthew’s Gospel, it almost always means “Saved” or “Redeemed.” It’s as if Jesus is saying, “The poor in spirit are saved, therefore the kingdom of heaven is theirs!”

I leaned back, finished with the impromptu sermon. As I told him this, it was as if a tremendous weight being lifted from his shoulders: he began to sit up, his face began to rest easy. I had one more thing to do: I said, “For the last hour you have been confessing to me all that you have done wrong in the past life of drugs. You told me about how it has broken your heart time and time again, the guilt and shame you continue to carry around to this day. You spoke of the sorrow you have as a child of God for all you did against God and against others. Now, it is my privilege as a servant of Christ to share a blessing of God with you.

I said, “Where once, a crown may have been a symbol of your sin-stained trade, you are now given a new crown – the crown of Christ crucified, who wore a crown of thorns for you. He took your poverty of spirit and He fills you with the riches of His grace. And, so you know this - I leaned forward, put my hands on his head - and I spoke the full words of absolution over him. As I pronounced the triune name of God, I made the sign of the cross on his head declaring sins forgiven in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit.

In that moment, the poor in spirit became wealthy in Christ, and all the riches of heaven – given to Peter in his baptism - were again refreshed in his eyes. Peter and his wife will probably still will struggle, but he does so knowing that their sins are forgiven for the sake of Jesus. Amen.