Sermon on Luke 9:28-45

Feast of the Transfiguration | 02/27/22 | Sermon on Luke 9:28-45 | by Brad Everett |

This morning’s gospel begins eight days after Peter’s confession of Jesus as “The Christ of God”, and Jesus’ first teaching the disciples what being the Christ means for him i.e. that he must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.

He also explained what it meant for the disciples to follow him—“if anyone would come after me he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.”

All of this was completely new to the 12. They understood the Messiah to be the one sent from God to kick out the pagan Roman invaders, set up a renewed kingdom of Israel and as his followers they would participate in this glorious task. So, hearing about the Messiah being put to death and raised to life, taking up a cross, and denying themselves, likely set their minds awhirl trying to make sense of it all in the intervening days.

When the gospel begins, Jesus takes Peter, James and John with him up onto a mountain to pray. Not at all an unusual event, as Scripture frequently mentions Jesus getting away from the crowds, going off by himself or with a few of the disciples to pray in quiet and solitude.

But this time something quite unusual happened. While praying, Jesus is Transfigured—still the same person but his appearance is dazzling light and blinding brightness. The three disciples were given a glimpse of Jesus’ glory as the Son of God—as much of a glimpse of his divine glory as they could humanly stand.

Standing with Jesus are Moses and Elijah who respectively represent The Law (which Moses received from God on Mt. Sinai) and The Prophets (Elijah considered the preeminent of these messengers of God). They also stand for the dead (Moses died and was buried before Israel entered the Promised land) and the living (Elijah didn’t die, but was transported to heaven in a whirlwind). These two iconic figures illustrating Israel’s relationship with God speak with Jesus about his departure, his exodus, and the work of salvation he would accomplish in Jerusalem.

As Elijah and Moses left Jesus, Peter, overwhelmed by all he has experienced thus far, blurts out something about building shelters for the three—some people, when nervous or overawed, they feel the need to speak, even if they don’t make much sense.

To conclude this encounter with glory Peter, James and John are enveloped by a cloud—reminiscent of the one that enveloped Mt. Sinai when Moses went up to receive the law, reminiscent of the pillar of cloud that led Israel through the wilderness to the Promised Land.

Enveloped by the glory and presence of God, they hear a voice say, “This is my Son, my chosen, listen to him.”

When the voice finished, they see Jesus standing alone, looking much like he did when they first came up the mountain. The cumulative effect of all this pushes the three into silence. With no words to describe what they had seen and heard, they spoke of it to no one.

The next day, coming down from the solitude of the mountain, they are met by a crowd and in particular, a man whose only son is oppressed by an evil spirit—one that suddenly seizes him, causing him to scream, throwing him into convulsions. These demonic  incidents are so frequent and ferocious that the boy is being destroyed. Fearful for his son, and with Jesus gone up the mountain, the man asked the remaining disciples to cast the demon out, but they were unable.

Jesus’ severe response doesn’t seem directed just at the disciples for their inability to cast out the demon, but the crowd as a whole, faithless and perverse. If you recall, a lack of faith on the part of crowds sometimes limited Jesus’ healing of the sick. 

But despite the spiritual condition of the crowd and his own disciples, Jesus rebukes the spirit and heals the boy, returning him to his father.

Once again, just as Peter James and John were left astounded at seeing the glory of God on the mountain, the crowd was amazed at the greatness of God, marveling at Jesus.

One might think Jesus would have used this opportunity to talk to the gathering about the power of God. Or perhaps to remind Peter, James and John that what they just saw was simply confirmation of their experience on the mountain.

But instead, Jesus took the opportunity to speak to his disciples about his impending passion. While the text says they still didn’t grasp what he what he meant, what they did understand made them afraid to speak to Jesus about it.

Today on this Sunday before Lent begins, we celebrate the feast of the Transfiguration, because it helps give us a proper perspective before beginning this season of reflection and repentance.

The glory and majesty of God is not reserved for special “mountain top experiences”. Those are blessings and certainly have their place in the life of faith, but God is not limited to those times to reveal himself to us.

In fact, it is likely in those instances when we are least expecting it, when we may be least aware and open to recognizing it, that God most powerfully reveals himself and grants us opportunity to experience his gracious presence.

Contrast the two settings in today’s gospel. The first, a mountain top, dazzling light, the presence of two of the greatest servants of God—Moses and Elijah, a cloud and a voice from heaven. Really, does it get any more ideal,

any more holy?

Then the second, a crowd Jesus describes as faithless and perverse; a desperate father and tormented boy on the verge of being destroyed by evil forces; disciples too scared, thick-headed or a combination of the two, struggling to follow their master. What else could possibly go wrong here?

Yet in both instances the glory and power of God is revealed. In the first it is more obvious, the second more hidden. But it is only hidden because our sinful natures hinder us from discerning it. And it is precisely this second display of God’s power that we need reminding of before Lent.

Because if we “do Lent” properly it is every bit as messy as the incident in today’s gospel. Lent brings us face to face with the sinful brokenness of our lives. The Lenten disciplines we undertake, whether doing something extra or giving something up for the 40 day fast, we quickly notice our weakness, how trying to do something so simple can be such a struggle. E.g. give up sweets and we seem surrounded by them; or decide to read a particular book or section of the Bible and finding the time to do so seems impossible.

Our struggles and failures with such non-essential things only serve to remind us how badly we fare in our struggle against real sins e.g. to think and speak charitably of others; to keep our tempers under control; to be generous with our time, talent and treasure; to love God and our neighbor.

Should we have the courage to consider these sorts of failures in our lives, it is tempting to be discouraged, figuring ‘why bother because I have no hope of overcoming these things’. And you know what – you’d be right. You have no hope of overcoming your sins of thought, word and deed—on your own.

But then repentance isn’t just about turning from sin, it is about turning to Jesus Christ.

Jesus never asked nor expected us to do this on our own. Which is why he was and is to be found in the chaos and confusion of life, ready for us to turn to him, rather than waiting in the wings of the rarified holiness of “perfect circumstances”. Read the gospels carefully – there was nothing “perfect” about the circumstances of Jesus’ life. He was perfect and sinless, but the world he was born into and lived in, the people he met, and loved were far from it. Jesus’ mission was never dependent on the perfection of humanity, rather it was the falleness and sinfulness, the brokenness of us and our world that necessitated his coming. He worked the salvation of the world on the tree of the cross, defeated death in the depths of Hades and the tomb.

He continues to work the grace and mercy of God in our lives, where he finds us, not bothering to wait for us to have “our duckies in a row”, but for us to call out from our place among the faithless and perverse crowd, declaring our weakness and need for his mercy and grace.

As we prepare to begin this Lenten season, let us fix our eyes on him who is our hope and salvation, no matter how broken and sin-stained our life and world may be, knowing Jesus’ presence isn’t dependent on the holiness or messiness of a circumstance. Let us release our need to be in control – even in control of our sins, and throw ourselves into Christ’s merciful arms. Let us come to him boldly, fearing nothing except losing him, and in humility trusting that he will work as he wills and needs, that as his baptized children we might continue to be transformed by his love into his likeness.