Our Gospel lesson from Matthew tells
us about an extraordinary event that some of Jesus’ disciples were able to
experience. While Jesus and three of his disciples were on the mountain, a
bright cloud covered them. Jesus was transfigured so that his face shone like
the sun and his clothes became dazzling white.
Moses, representing the law tradition, and Elijah, representing the
prophetic tradition, appeared with Jesus. Then the disciples heard God’s voice
tell them that Jesus was his beloved Son and that they should listen to him.
The disciples were extremely frightened and fell on the ground. Jesus walked
toward them, touched them, and told them to get up and not to be afraid.
What do we make of a story like this? Do we find stories like this
difficult to believe? Evidently, Peter, James, and John were caught off guard
by it. It actually frightened them.
This story of the transfiguration of Jesus raises the question about
miracles. Do miracles like this really happen or was that just something that
people in bible times believed?
This past summer, you might have seen several billboards of a local
church that invited people to their summer sermon series on the topic of
miracles. The word, “miracle,” gets our attention.
What do we make of miracles living in our post-modern 21st
century world? What do they mean for us today?
In his book, Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense,”
former Anglican Bishop, NT Wright offers a very helpful story to help us think
about the place of miracles in our own day and age. He writes, “There was once
a powerful dictator who ruled his country with an iron will. Every aspect of
life was thought through and worked out according to a rational system. Nothing
was left to chance.
The dictator noticed that the water sources around the country were
erratic and in some cases dangerous. There were thousands of springs of water,
often in the middle of towns and cities. They could be useful, but sometimes
they caused floods, sometimes they got polluted, and often they burst out in
new places and damaged roads, fields, and houses.
The dictator decided on a sensible, rational policy. The whole country,
or at least every part where there was any suggestion of water, would be paved
over with concrete so thick that no spring of waver could ever penetrate it.
The water that people needed would be brought to them by a complex
system of pipes. Furthermore, the dictator decided, he would use the
opportunity, while he was at it, to put into the water various chemicals that
would make the people healthy. With the dictator controlling the supply,
everyone would have what he decided they needed, and there wouldn’t be any more
nuisance from unregulated springs.
For many years the plan worked just fine. People got used to their water
coming from the new system. It sometimes tasted a bit strange, and from time to
time they would look back wistfully to the bubbling streams and fresh springs
they used to enjoy.
Some of the problems that people had formerly blamed on unregulated
water hadn’t gone away. It turned out that the air was just polluted as the
water had sometimes been, but the dictator wouldn’t, or didn’t, do much about
that. But mostly the new system seemed efficient. People praised the dictator
for his forward looking wisdom.
A generation passed. All seemed to be well. Then, without warning, the
springs that had gone on bubbling and sparkling beneath the solid concrete
could no longer be contained. In a sudden explosion – a cross between a volcano
and an earthquake – they burst through the concrete that people had come to
take for granted.
Muddy, dirty water shot into the air and rushed through the streets and
into houses, shops, and factories. Roads were torn up; whole cities were in
chaos. Some people were delighted: at last they could get water again without
depending on The System. But the people who ran the official water pipes were
at a loss: suddenly everyone had more than enough water, but it wasn’t pure and
couldn’t be controlled.”
NT Wright goes on to say that we in the Western world are the citizens
of that country. The dictator is the philosophy that has shaped our world for
the past two or more centuries, making most people materialists by default. And
the water is what we today call “spirituality,” the hidden spring that bubbles
up within human hearts and human societies.
Even in our hyper scientific modern world, walk into any bookstore, and
count the number of book shelves that contain books on spirituality. Evidently
the waters of spirituality cannot be contained underneath the rock hard
pavement of secularism. People know deep down that there is a mystery at work
in the world, a mystery that leaves us speechless when heaven intersects our
ordinary lives.
We have heard people share bright light stories of how they had near
death experiences in which they saw a bright light which brought them great
comfort and peace and then they came back to life. Or maybe there are other
dramatic and powerful stories that you have heard that defy explanation.
While those once in a lifetime stories can be very meaningful, there are
other bright light stories that happen to us all of the time in big and small
ways. They happen to us in the course of our day to day activities and they
remind us of that bubbling spring of water that runs through all of life.
The Celtic Christians had a name for these moments when heaven and earth
intersected in our day to day living. They referred to them as thin places. I
like to refer to them as sacramental moments, those times when the sacred
overlaps our time and space in beautiful and meaningful ways.
Where do you see God at work in your day to day living? What are those
sacramental moments where God has been made present in a very real way for you?
Last June, while I was attending our West Ohio Annual Conference up at
Lakeside, along Lake Erie, I was able to spend the day with a friend of mine
who is a retired United Methodist pastor. I served as his associate pastor
several years ago and he has been a spiritual mentor for me over these many
years.
It was the first time in five years that he was able to attend Annual
Conference due to his failing health. A friend in his church drove him up from
Columbus just for the day. His Leukemia has been taking a toll on him and he
now walks with a cane.
I told him that I would buy him an ice cream cone and take him to the
pier of the Lake since it was a beautiful day. He walked very slowly, but we
finally made it to the pier and we sat on a bench overlooking Lake Erie and
taking in the sunshine and the slight cool breeze.
As we were reminiscing and catching up with each other, a friend of mine
who serves a church in the Dayton area walked by us. I invited Brian to join us
and introduced him to my friend.
Brian asked my friend how long he had been a member of the West Ohio
Conference. And my friend said, “It’s
interesting you should ask me that question because this year is my 60th
anniversary of being a member of the West Ohio Conference.”
He then asked him how he came to our conference since my friend had
shared with him that he had been raised in Philadelphia. And my friend told him that while he was at
Union Seminary in New York, a clergy representative from our conference had
traveled to his seminary to recruit students to come and serve in West Ohio.
And when he shared the name of the pastor who recruited him, Brian said,
“That was my grandfather.” My friend
then went on to tell Brian what a great person his grandfather was and that if
it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t have come to this conference.
As I listened to this conversation, I realized that this was one of
those bright light moments. This was a sacramental and holy time for all three
of us; for my friend because he got to meet the grandson of a dear friend of
his, for Brian because he got to hear what a wonderful man his grandfather was,
and for me, because my time with my friend that day couldn’t have been scripted
any better.
God works in mysterious ways. There are transfiguration stories like
this all around us. And like the disciples, we are reminded that heaven is a
lot closer than we may think.
A couple of years ago, I officiated
at the funeral of a young boy who died from cancer. A few months following the
funeral, I needed to make some visits at the hospital. For some reason, instead
of going my typical route, I went a different way to the hospital.
This route took me by the apartment of where this little boy used to
live. As I was driving by, I noticed that his grandmother was sitting on the
front steps of the house, and so I decided to pull over and see how she had
been doing.
This grandmother was so glad to see me. With tears in her eyes, she said
that a little later that morning, she would be going to the cemetery to watch
them place the headstone for her grandson’s grave.
Together, we shared a few stories about her grandson, how he had a great
sense of humor and how he showed so much faith in facing his death. We laughed
and we cried as we sat together on those front steps of her apartment.
And then the strangest thing happened that I will never forget. As this
grandmother was sharing a story with me, a butterfly landed on her arm. We both
became silent and then we looked at each other in disbelief.
Before this little boy had died, he told us that God would send us
butterflies to let us know that he was with God and that everything was all
right. After a few moments of silence, we looked at each other and started
laughing. And then we prayed together, right there on those front steps,
thanking God for sending us that butterfly at just the right moment.
I don’t know what you make of stories like this. All I know is that it felt
like one of those thin places where heaven and earth overlapped in a very
mysterious way. It was a holy moment that I will never forget.
The church believes that the Sacrament of Holy Communion is one of those
bright light moments when we encounter the presence of the Risen Christ in the
here and now. When we receive the bread and the cup, we are reminded that the
bubbling stream of God’s presence has been under our feet all along. There is
no pavement that can contain it. It springs up when we least expect it.
These bright light moments can happen at any time.
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