This is What We Came For

Transfiguration 2017  year A

Based on Matthew, Chapter 17

            Being new to Texas, I have gotten plenty of suggestions for places we ‘have to’ see, and believe me, we are making a list – and we plan to hit as many as possible!

            Before coming here, though, my husband and I used to make an annual trip up to the North shore of Lake Superior for a few days.

            We could take the dog, get a little exercise, and there is some pretty awesome scenery there too.

            We like to hike, especially short hikes, well, actually VERY short hikes, preferably a short hike up to a scenic overlook.

            So one day we drove up one of the roads up into the hills – the closest thing to a mountain in that area – and stopped to look around.

            The view wasn’t so spectacular, despite the height, so we wandered around a little, and discovered an arrow with a sign pointing to a trail.

            We both needed the exercise, so we decided to take the trail for a little while and see where it might lead.

            We walked a little while, and then walked a little farther, and then we walked a little farther yet.

            We kept wondering when we were going to see something, when a gorgeous view was going to appear before us.  But it never did.  After about ½ hour we turned around and walked the other direction.

            We both agreed that we didn’t really see anything, but the hike wasn’t a total loss, because we did get some exercise.

            I suppose that we were looking for some sort of unmistakable sign – some gorgeous sight – a panorama, a vista – to have a feeling of “This is it!  This is what I came for!  I came to see this!”

            But we didn’t get it.

            Later I did a little internet research and found that we were actually on a very small segment of the Superior Hiking Trail.

            The Superior Hiking Trail is a 296 mile long footpath running from Duluth up to the Canadian border.

            The ads say that the hike includes a lot of spectacular views, especially of Lake Superior.

            But I suspect that you have to stay on it for more than ½ hour, in order to get that feeling of:  “This is it!  This is what I came for!”

            Just like I suspect that it would be a mistake for me to think – just because I’ve been a couple of places in Texas now – that I have really experienced and know what Texas is like.  Right?  I still have a lot to learn.

            But here today, on this last Sunday after Epiphany – called Transfiguration – well, those three disciples got that, didn’t they? 

            They went up on the mountain with Jesus, a human being like them, their friend and their teacher, and suddenly – there he was, GLOWING

            Transfigured – his face was like the sun, and his clothes were whiter than white, and Moses and Elijah – the two greatest prophets of all, are standing there, talking with him.

            Elijah – the prophet predicted to come to herald the Messiah.  And Moses – the one who led the people of Israel from Slavery to Freedom.

            THIS IS IT !  they must have thought.

            This is what we came for!

            We can call it a mountaintop experience, because literally, it did take place on a mountain, but it wasn’t just a spectacular view – no, it was a revelation.

            It was a revelation of Jesus’ true identity.

            The voice confirmed it.  “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well-pleased.”

            Coincidentally, these are the exact words that were spoken at Jesus’ baptism.

            And three more are added.

            “Listen to him.”

            Moses and Elijah are there to confirm that Jesus is indeed the one they are waiting for.  He looks like one of them, like their friend, like their teacher – and he is.

            But he is also the one who shines like the sun, the one who will save them, the one who will save us.

            It is easy to forget.

            It’s easy to forget when you come back down the mountain,

            To deal with everyday life,

            When you walk on those trails of life where – you know – you never see anything – just a few wildflowers, and some kind of berry – you’re not sure what it is – some rocks.

            It’s easy to forget when the path gets steep, and there are no great views, and – let’s face it – there might even be SNAKES.

            There is so much more than meets the eye, so much more than we see, so much more than we know.

           

            And when you are up there on the mountain – if you even get to be up there – it’s tempting to think, in that moment, THIS is what we came for.”

            This is it.  That vision.  That shining face.

            But you know – the vision only lasts for a moment, and only three of the disciples even get to see it.

            Only Peter, James and John.  Sometimes I wonder why that is.

            Sometimes I have been a little jealous – jealous of those who have been to mountains I haven’t been to,

            who have seen visions that I haven’t seen – who seem sure at times when I have doubted.

            Isn’t this what we came for, after all?

            Isn’t the mountaintop the point of it all?

            The vision only lasts for a moment – because that’s how visions are.

            Like a couple of weeks ago during worship –

            When I had the big basket and got out rhythm instruments for the first time

            … and asked the children to come forward.

            And they did –

            They ran up to the front .. and they picked up the instruments and started playing

            It was great!

            Sort of a vision of faith and joy and love!

            Or the day when the little kids all unwrapped Bibles

            And someone unwrapped her Bible and shouted, “I got Jesus!”

            The truth!  A vision! 

            But not everyone got to see it.

            And it only lasted a moment.

            The vision those three disciples had – it only lasts for a moment, although the words linger.  “This is my beloved son with whom I am well-pleased.”

            And then the disciples go back down the mountain, where they will greet the suffering world,

            Where they will walk the paths where everything seems ordinary, or hard,

            Where they will fight among themselves about who is the greatest, where they will follow him,

            And keep following him, even though his face is not shining.

            This is my beloved son.  Listen to him.

            And so they follow him, and do you know – when Jesus goes to the garden of Gethsemane, to pray before he is arrested – it is those three disciples who are also invited.

            They are invited to watch and pray, to see his face as he struggles with fear.

            And they can’t do it.  They fail.

            The same three disciples who saw him shining, now they see him in darkness.

            This is what we came for.  Is this what we came for?

            Today, on the last day of epiphany, we hold in our hearts the vision on the mountain – the one not everyone got to see.

            But this is not what we came for.

            We didn’t come for the vision, the momentary vision, the spectacular vista.

            We came for the everyday service.

            We came  for the whole, ordinary trail,

            All 296 miles of it.

            Where Jesus is with us always, to the end of the age.

            We came to hear the words

            “this is my beloved son, with whom I am well-pleased

            and to remember the words

            that he is with us always

            on the whole trail

            as we bend down to serve

            as we give a cup of cold water to a strangers.

            This is what we came for.

            We came to hear each other’s stories

            Stories of where we caught a glimpse of Jesus – on the mountains
            in the valleys

            In the faces of strangers,

            The faces of friends,

            The voices of children.

            Their faces are not shining, the but words are still true, “You are my beloved child”

            Because when Jesus reveals his own true identity, he reveals ours as well.

            See what love the father has given us, that we should be called children of God.  That is what we are.

            This is what we came for.  Amen

           

            

Today

I have been here almost a year, someone reminded me today, which felt a little to me like chiding.  It felt a little like, "You have been here almost a year; why isn't everything different by now?"  But that might be just me.

Last year at this time I was deciding whether to come; I was praying about whether this was a call from God.  Was God calling me to leave my home in Minnesota and travel south to this congregation called Grace?

Now, I am here.  This morning I had a baptism at the early service, and two young people receiving their first communion at the late service, and the time between and the time after was full as well.  And there are a few things I want to remember from this full morning.

I want to remember the young family sitting in the front pew, with their just-turned-three year old son  on the floor, and their baby boy in their arms.  The three year old had spilled his cup full of cereal, and at the beginning of the service he was gathering up the fragments, in earnest.  I want to remember how the little boy whispered a little during the service, and how I loved to hear it; I didn't mind at all.  I want to remember the baby's cry when I poured the water over his head, but how he smiled afterwards, and loved to be cooed over by the members of the congregation.  And I want to remember how his big brother folded his hands and said the Lord's Prayer with all of the other members of the congregation.

After the service there was a Question and Answer time with regarding to our church council's one year plan.  There were no softball questions, like last year when I was here for a dinner and a Meet and Greet last year, and people asked me questions about my husband and my dog and "How would I like to go on a mission trip to Peru?"  This year the questions were good but hard, about our specific goals and how we could communicate better about both mission and building goals.  This year someone asked why the plan was only for a year, and that other person reminded everyone that I had already been here "almost a year."

It is true that I have not tried very many new things yet; we have made a couple of small, tentative steps toward Cross Generational Ministry; we are moving forward with a possible new music director; I have tried just a few small things in worship.  I have been here almost a year.

At the second service we had two young people receiving their first communion.  I want to remember how the two families were sitting in the front rows, nervous and smiling.  I want to remember how the children came up for the children's message, and afterwards shared cards and high fives with everyone in church, telling them that "Jesus loves you!"  I want to remember "Lord, I lift your name on high" and I want to remember the small cups of wine, created by the communion students, and how their families stood behind them when they received the bread and wine for the first time.

Last year at this time, I didn't know them.

After the second service, we had a meeting for Children Youth and Family planning.  We munched sandwiches and shared highs and lows and prayed for each other.  We said "Jesus loves you" with high fives, and we started to plan what our church's Vacation Bible School for all ages would look like.  Some people were in charge of crafts.  Some people were in charge of food.  Some were in charge of clean up.

Half of the people in the room for that meeting today were new.

The Small Picture

Forgive me, for we were at the Biltmore Mansion the other day.  It is the largest home in North America, and it was gorgeous and overwhelming, with all of the layers of history and art and architecture, and even though I am on vacation, it got me started thinking about Mission and Vision and Purpose, big words that help churches and individuals think about Where They Are Going and How They Are Going To Get There.  You Know:  "The Big Picture."

George Vanderbilt had a vision, or a mission, or both:  and it was to build this great and beautiful house, where many people came and stayed and entertained.  The house had its own bowling alley and swimming pool, a gymnasium and a music room and a library.  The garden was designed by the same person who designed Central Park.

As for me, what I remember most is walking across the lawn on the way back to the parking lot, and seeing a small yellow butterfly fly in front of me.

But it made me think, again, about the important and vexing question:  what is my mission?  do I have a vision for my life?  And what about my congregation?  What is the mission of my congregation?

When I was a little girl, I had a simple mission in life, and it was to write stories.  I thought I would be an author.  I didn't have any idea what I would write "about," but I thought I would tell stories of some sort or another.

Then I knew I was going to become a pastor, which also involves telling stories,  and helping other people tell stories, as well as holding hands and breaking bread and pouring water.  Being a pastor involves holding up mirrors to people's pain and beauty, and nudging them forward to do things they never thought they could do.  And Leading -- but where?  I can't seem to get my brain around what is called "The Big Picture":  all I can see is a number of small pictures of daily faithfulness, on the way to the reign of justice and mercy that only God can bring.

A woman from my congregation tutors all of the immigrant children in her apartment building.  A young man comforts his confirmation guide, who is grieving.  A confirmation guide is vulnerable enough to share her grief with her students.  A young mother and her children bring communion to a woman who is shut-in.  They visit every month.  A two year old girl shares the "Peace" with as many people as possible during Sunday worship.  A small yellow butterfly flies across a great garden.

The Small Pictures:  I don't want you to miss them, because if you do, you might also miss the Son Rising every single day.

I still don't know what my mission is, but I pray that God will grant me grace to see my own small yellow butterfly, and courage to follow.

Animals and Eschatology

We have an Animal Blessing Service at my church this Sunday afternoon.  We always begin out on the front lawn with songs and prayer, and at the end, we process into the chapel, where the animals are each blessed individually.

We would't have to bring the animals indoors.  My husband's church has an animal blessing service at around the same time of year, and the whole service is held at the front entry to the church.  They have horses, so I suppose I can see their point.  But there's something I really like about looking out over my congregation of people, and assorted dogs, cats, gerbils and canaries (and sometimes, a goat).  I'm glad that we bring the animals indoors.  It doesn't seem right to have animals in the pews with people, and yet, it does.

There's another part of me that secretly wonders why I love the Blessing of the Animals so much, if it isn't a flaw in me of some sort, a soft sentimentality.  Instead of putting my hand on the head of a Golden Retriever, maybe I should be Ending Poverty, or Racism, or doing something much more Important, something that will bring the Reign of God just a few inches closer.  In the scheme of things, blessing the animals on Sunday afternoon is not that important.  It's not up there with funerals and weddings, it's not as important as feeding the hungry or standing up for those who have been ground into the dust.

And yet, in its own small way, there's something going on here that is important.  Some people use their  Animals Blessing Service to highlight larger concerns:  the important Christian vocation of caring for creation, for one thing.  Protecting the vulnerable includes the vulnerable animals who live with us and around us.  

But the people who come to our front lawn on Sunday afternoon:  they aren't there just because they believe in caring for God's beautiful and vulnerable creation.  They may believe in all that, but they are there because they love the creatures they live with, sometimes beyond all reason.  They love them, and  and in this relationship they catch a glimpse of the grace of God for all creatures, and in this relationship they catch a glimpse of the world to come.

This isn't about "finding God in the beauty of nature"; we're about as likely to find cruelty as beauty in nature.  But it is about glimpses -- glimpses of the future that we sometimes get, glimpses of a future where the lion will lie down with the lamb, where tears and pain and death will be no more, where people and animals and friends and enemies will finally live in peace, where everyone will have enough.

That is the future that God desires, and that is the future that God is bringing to being, and that is the end that we walk toward in the way we treat each other now.

And every once in awhile we catch a glimpse of it.  When enemies forgive each other.  When health is restored.  And animals and people sing God's praise together in the sanctuary.

Big and Small...

Sadly, I didn't get to the Friday Five today, although today's entry did get me thinking (always a dangerous thing, for me at least). Today's Friday Five was all about eyes, and seeing, and it got me thinking about what kind of vision church leaders need to have as they call disciples into God's future.

It seems to me that we need to be able to see both big -- and small.

Sometimes it seems to me that the problem is the church is that we don't dream big enough. We are content with small dreams of a few more children in Sunday School; a few new members every year, a new program implemented every other year or so. But God's hope for us is big: God's hope is that we become more welcoming, more inclusive, that we reflect more and more what God's kingdom really looks like. God sees every person in our community as precious and beautiful and beloved. God sees us respecting each other and forgiving each other and helping each other to live a good life. I want our congregation to reflect that dream.

But sometimes it seems to me that the problem with the church is that we don't see small enough. Sometimes we get discouraged about where we are right now -- some of us don't pray enough, and others of us don't seem to have time to be involved in issues of justice in the community, and few of us have the time to be involved in a formal Bible study. But that's because we don't see the small signs of faith, and the small signs of faithfulness, the small signs of God's movement in the congregation.

They don't see the young woman who is joining the youth mission trip for the first time this year. They don't hear the stories of young families who want to live here because they want their children to live and learn in a diverse, multi-ethnic community. They don't talk to the woman who has cultivated relationships with members of the hispanic congregation that worships here.

There are times I wonder if the church will go on. There are times that I think if it does, it will be totally because of God's grace and love and forgiveness, not because of any special virtuosity of ours. I think of many ways the church is "blowing it" -- we have our fingers in our ears, and we are closing our eyes to the pain of the world, and we are not answering the questions of the world.

There are times I wonder if the church will go on. Will young people in the next generation think that it is important to come to a church, and to sing songs and liturgy and pray together with other people, and see this vision and work for this vision of a holy kingdom of love? It seems so old-fashioned.

But then I see a few pictures in my mind: I see a picture of two young girls, sitting together in the first pew of Small Church, South Dakota. They have the worship book open in front of them, and they are singing at the top of their lungs. I also see a picture of a young couple whose wedding I conducted a few years ago. She was from a church background, but he wasn't. They moved away for graduate school a few years ago. I finally caught up with them and discovered that they now have two small children, and are active members of a city congregation. I also see pictures of the people from India who have started attending our congregation, reminding us of all the places that God is working.

Sometimes I think that the problem with the church is that we don't see big enough. And sometimes I think that the problem is that we don't see small enough -- to see that in the midst of our dreaming, or our lack of dreaming, God is at work in us and among us, to bring peace and grace and love -- finally and forever -- to earth.