It's A Mystery
Sermon
It's News To Me: Messages of Hope for Those Who Haven't Heard
Cycle A Gospel Sermons For Advent, Christmas, Epiphany
Mike, a member of our Good Earth Band at THE GARDEN, and a Ph.D. chemist at Eli Lilly Company, filled in for me when I was away. He decided to use some of his chemical know-how to make the point he wanted to make. Mike had three styrofoam cups and a pitcher of water. He poured water into one of the cups, and did the moving-the-cups-around-routine, asking those who were watching to keep their eye on the cup with the water in it. After he had completed his "hocus-pocus," he asked them to tell him which cup had the water. Most folks were fairly clear on which cup it was, but when Mike turned it upside down, it was empty.
For them, it was a mystery! As it turns out, the scientist-turned-preacher had put a white, powdery substance in the cup into which he had poured the water. That white powder is the same substance that is used in babies' diapers to make them water-absorbent. It's invisible; no one could see the powder, and as if by magic, the water he had poured into the cup was absorbed and disappeared.
I tell you that story by way of saying that the Bible passage we have for today, the story that's called "The Transfiguration," is a bit of a mystery to me. In fact, when I read the commentaries and did my study on the passage, I felt totally unclear on what it was all about, and what was happening. However, as I reflected on it, it occurred to me that that might be precisely the main message in this story.
There is a part of what we experience in the spiritual realm of our lives that is quite mysterious, and difficult to explain. For example, there's a man whom I've known for years, who happened to be leaving a meeting at the church one night, heading home. When he got to the street and started to make the turn toward home, he seemed to hear a voice telling him to turn the other way. He paused, shook it off, and started to turn in the direction of his home, but as he did, he heard the voice again. This time, he decided to heed it, and he turned the other direction.
After he had driven a short distance in the wrong direction, wondering why on earth he had made that turn, he came upon a minor accident. It turned out to be a person who had been in the meeting with him and had left earlier. He was the first person on the scene, called the police, and waited with his friend until help arrived.
Now you can call that whatever you like, but I think it's a mystery. Having said that, however, I also have to admit that I believe that there is much "out there" around us that we don't know about, and don't really understand. Our eyes are not clear enough, and we aren't astute enough to perceive all that is around us.
As I think about the Bible passage for this morning, I can't tell you whether or not this was an actual God-thing, but I tend to believe that something special happened to those who were gathered on top of that mountain. For one thing, mountains have long been understood as a place that is holy, and where holy encounters can and do occur. Throughout the Bible, we find stories of those who have encountered God or had spiritual experiences on the mountain. I know that's been true for me. When I go to the mountains, I come away feeling spiritually renewed and re-centered. I feel that I can see more clearly, and I suspect that is what those in our Bible passage were experiencing.
Part of what this passage is telling us is that it's important to put ourselves in places, and open our eyes in such a way to take in the mysterious, the holy, the spiritual. Sometimes we have to pause long enough to appreciate the wonder and awe of life all around us.
In some ways, it may be a little bit like something that happened to an emergency room physician named Harry. He was on his shift one night when a woman was brought in about to give birth. As soon as he got there, he realized that, unless her obstetrician was already somewhere in the building, he was going to deliver this baby himself. Everyone scurried about, making all the preparations, and the baby was born almost immediately.
Harry laid the infant girl along his left forearm, and took a suction bulb and began to clear her mouth and nose. Suddenly, the baby opened her eyes and looked directly at him. In that moment, Harry said he stepped out of his technical role, and realized a very simple thing: He was the first human being this baby girl had ever seen. He felt his heart go out to her in welcome from all people everywhere and tears came to his eyes. Harry had delivered hundreds of babies, but he admitted that he had never allowed himself to experience the meaning of what he was doing before. In some very real way, Harry believes this is the first baby that he ever really delivered.1 Harry experienced a moment of awe and wonder, and that made all the difference, and what he experienced was something that was invisible, intangible, yet very real.
That reminds me of that well-known line in the classic story of "The Little Prince." At the end, the fox and the little prince have become friends, but it's time for them to part. The fox then shares with him the secret of life -- a very simple secret. He says, "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."2 And so it is.
A mountaintop experience can certainly be a spiritual "high," and it can affect us in a variety of ways. In our Bible passage, it seemed to fire Peter up. He wanted to build three buildings, and he was "babbling" on about that possibility, when something stopped him in his tracks. I wonder if that something was a reminder that action is not always the best course. There are plenty of times in life when we need to slow down, and look and listen. We need to contemplate and consider our experiences.
There are times for stillness in life, and probably most of us could benefit by learning to experience and appreciate those times of quiet. After all, our world has a way of inundating us with information and stimuli, and life is moving at an incredible pace! With personal communications systems, paging devices, cell phones, faxes, e-mail, and voice mail, communication is instantaneous, or as close as it can get to it.
We're told that there's more information for us to assimilate than ever before. In fact, I read somewhere that we are now exposed to more information in one Sunday's newspaper than the average person was exposed to in a whole year during the 1700s! And this is only the tip of the iceberg!
How, in the midst of all that, can we possibly find ways to "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10)? The Bible passage for today is encouraging us to stop and slow down, to take time out and look and listen, and become aware of God in perhaps an entirely new way. How can we do that? How can we slow down our hurrying, and begin to appreciate the awe and wonder, the beauty and mystery all around us?
I want to make something clear. I believe that God is present in every moment and in every experience of life. God is in the hectic, crazy, frantic pace of life as well as in the cool ocean breeze and the quiet starlit night. God is in everything, in everyone, and is everywhere.
However, we're the problem. When we're moving a million miles an hour, we miss God. It's not that God isn't there, it's just that we're too preoccupied and too distracted, and we simply aren't aware of God's presence. We're not focused enough to experience the divine touch in our midst. That's why we need to take some time to be still; we need to be still to become aware of ourselves, and to experience God's presence within us and around us in new and different ways.
How do we do that? I have to tell you that I don't have all the answers. To be truthful, I have to admit that I've got this busy-ness part down pat; it's the quieting and being still that I haven't quite managed very well yet.
However, other people's experiences can be helpful. For instance, I heard someone once talk about envisioning ourselves as being in the eye of a storm. The eye of a storm is the one spot in the center of a hurricane that is totally calm, and almost isolated from the violence and turbulence around it. No matter how crazy it gets, the center remains quiet and still.
Perhaps what you and I need to do is develop the art of discovering that same kind of calm in the midst of the chaos of our lives. Maybe it's through meditation, or prayer, or taking mini-vacations in our minds, or going out into nature, or sitting in a room alone in silence.
At the beginning or the end of the day, maybe we need just to pull our car over and stop. Perhaps there's a place where we can catch our breath, and take in the view; or maybe it's a matter of just closing our eyes and breathing deeply for a moment. Most of us need some time when we can slow down, and become more centered and focused. Instead of rushing to work with the radio blaring, that might be the time to be quiet and experience God.
There are other ways to "be still," and experience God, too. In her book, When The Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd tells about a lesson she learned when she was a child. It has to do with taking the time to allow ourselves to see and experience something we may never have seen before. When Sue was young, a woman named Sweet took care of her. She said that one day, the two of them started out for one of Sue's favorite places, the city park, that was about four blocks from her home. Sue was anxious to get there, but that day Sweet took her hand and headed out in the wrong direction. "We're taking the long way round," Sweet said.
That felt like a curse for a young child, because it meant at least eight blocks rather than the normal four! It was awful, but Sweet would not give in, so off they went. They had walked about six of those eight blocks when Sweet stopped beside a ditch that was swollen with water and tadpoles. She pulled out a Mason jar from her pocket, one that already had nail holes punched in the lid. Sweet looked at Sue Monk Kidd, smiled, and said, "Now aren't you glad we took the long way round? No tadpoles the short way."3
Sometimes for us it may be taking the long way round. It's taking time to slow down, to experience the mysteries of God all around us, to sense the wonder of God within us. It's important to acknowledge the need for a time to be still; it's planning for it; it's building it into our day. It's finding a time and a way to get renewed and re-centered and refreshed. It's being still, and letting God's presence surround us, and God's spirit fill us.
Closing Word
As you leave here this morning, slow down and live; be quiet, and look for the mystery of God all around us. And go in peace. Amen.
____________
1. "Sleight of Hand," "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden," "Surprised by Meaning," from Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D., copyright (c) 1996 by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D. Used by permission of Putnam Berkley, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.
2. Antoine Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince (New York: Harcourt, Inc., 1943), p. 63.
3. Pages 18 and 19 from When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd. Copyright (c) 1990 by Sue Monk Kidd. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
For them, it was a mystery! As it turns out, the scientist-turned-preacher had put a white, powdery substance in the cup into which he had poured the water. That white powder is the same substance that is used in babies' diapers to make them water-absorbent. It's invisible; no one could see the powder, and as if by magic, the water he had poured into the cup was absorbed and disappeared.
I tell you that story by way of saying that the Bible passage we have for today, the story that's called "The Transfiguration," is a bit of a mystery to me. In fact, when I read the commentaries and did my study on the passage, I felt totally unclear on what it was all about, and what was happening. However, as I reflected on it, it occurred to me that that might be precisely the main message in this story.
There is a part of what we experience in the spiritual realm of our lives that is quite mysterious, and difficult to explain. For example, there's a man whom I've known for years, who happened to be leaving a meeting at the church one night, heading home. When he got to the street and started to make the turn toward home, he seemed to hear a voice telling him to turn the other way. He paused, shook it off, and started to turn in the direction of his home, but as he did, he heard the voice again. This time, he decided to heed it, and he turned the other direction.
After he had driven a short distance in the wrong direction, wondering why on earth he had made that turn, he came upon a minor accident. It turned out to be a person who had been in the meeting with him and had left earlier. He was the first person on the scene, called the police, and waited with his friend until help arrived.
Now you can call that whatever you like, but I think it's a mystery. Having said that, however, I also have to admit that I believe that there is much "out there" around us that we don't know about, and don't really understand. Our eyes are not clear enough, and we aren't astute enough to perceive all that is around us.
As I think about the Bible passage for this morning, I can't tell you whether or not this was an actual God-thing, but I tend to believe that something special happened to those who were gathered on top of that mountain. For one thing, mountains have long been understood as a place that is holy, and where holy encounters can and do occur. Throughout the Bible, we find stories of those who have encountered God or had spiritual experiences on the mountain. I know that's been true for me. When I go to the mountains, I come away feeling spiritually renewed and re-centered. I feel that I can see more clearly, and I suspect that is what those in our Bible passage were experiencing.
Part of what this passage is telling us is that it's important to put ourselves in places, and open our eyes in such a way to take in the mysterious, the holy, the spiritual. Sometimes we have to pause long enough to appreciate the wonder and awe of life all around us.
In some ways, it may be a little bit like something that happened to an emergency room physician named Harry. He was on his shift one night when a woman was brought in about to give birth. As soon as he got there, he realized that, unless her obstetrician was already somewhere in the building, he was going to deliver this baby himself. Everyone scurried about, making all the preparations, and the baby was born almost immediately.
Harry laid the infant girl along his left forearm, and took a suction bulb and began to clear her mouth and nose. Suddenly, the baby opened her eyes and looked directly at him. In that moment, Harry said he stepped out of his technical role, and realized a very simple thing: He was the first human being this baby girl had ever seen. He felt his heart go out to her in welcome from all people everywhere and tears came to his eyes. Harry had delivered hundreds of babies, but he admitted that he had never allowed himself to experience the meaning of what he was doing before. In some very real way, Harry believes this is the first baby that he ever really delivered.1 Harry experienced a moment of awe and wonder, and that made all the difference, and what he experienced was something that was invisible, intangible, yet very real.
That reminds me of that well-known line in the classic story of "The Little Prince." At the end, the fox and the little prince have become friends, but it's time for them to part. The fox then shares with him the secret of life -- a very simple secret. He says, "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."2 And so it is.
A mountaintop experience can certainly be a spiritual "high," and it can affect us in a variety of ways. In our Bible passage, it seemed to fire Peter up. He wanted to build three buildings, and he was "babbling" on about that possibility, when something stopped him in his tracks. I wonder if that something was a reminder that action is not always the best course. There are plenty of times in life when we need to slow down, and look and listen. We need to contemplate and consider our experiences.
There are times for stillness in life, and probably most of us could benefit by learning to experience and appreciate those times of quiet. After all, our world has a way of inundating us with information and stimuli, and life is moving at an incredible pace! With personal communications systems, paging devices, cell phones, faxes, e-mail, and voice mail, communication is instantaneous, or as close as it can get to it.
We're told that there's more information for us to assimilate than ever before. In fact, I read somewhere that we are now exposed to more information in one Sunday's newspaper than the average person was exposed to in a whole year during the 1700s! And this is only the tip of the iceberg!
How, in the midst of all that, can we possibly find ways to "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10)? The Bible passage for today is encouraging us to stop and slow down, to take time out and look and listen, and become aware of God in perhaps an entirely new way. How can we do that? How can we slow down our hurrying, and begin to appreciate the awe and wonder, the beauty and mystery all around us?
I want to make something clear. I believe that God is present in every moment and in every experience of life. God is in the hectic, crazy, frantic pace of life as well as in the cool ocean breeze and the quiet starlit night. God is in everything, in everyone, and is everywhere.
However, we're the problem. When we're moving a million miles an hour, we miss God. It's not that God isn't there, it's just that we're too preoccupied and too distracted, and we simply aren't aware of God's presence. We're not focused enough to experience the divine touch in our midst. That's why we need to take some time to be still; we need to be still to become aware of ourselves, and to experience God's presence within us and around us in new and different ways.
How do we do that? I have to tell you that I don't have all the answers. To be truthful, I have to admit that I've got this busy-ness part down pat; it's the quieting and being still that I haven't quite managed very well yet.
However, other people's experiences can be helpful. For instance, I heard someone once talk about envisioning ourselves as being in the eye of a storm. The eye of a storm is the one spot in the center of a hurricane that is totally calm, and almost isolated from the violence and turbulence around it. No matter how crazy it gets, the center remains quiet and still.
Perhaps what you and I need to do is develop the art of discovering that same kind of calm in the midst of the chaos of our lives. Maybe it's through meditation, or prayer, or taking mini-vacations in our minds, or going out into nature, or sitting in a room alone in silence.
At the beginning or the end of the day, maybe we need just to pull our car over and stop. Perhaps there's a place where we can catch our breath, and take in the view; or maybe it's a matter of just closing our eyes and breathing deeply for a moment. Most of us need some time when we can slow down, and become more centered and focused. Instead of rushing to work with the radio blaring, that might be the time to be quiet and experience God.
There are other ways to "be still," and experience God, too. In her book, When The Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd tells about a lesson she learned when she was a child. It has to do with taking the time to allow ourselves to see and experience something we may never have seen before. When Sue was young, a woman named Sweet took care of her. She said that one day, the two of them started out for one of Sue's favorite places, the city park, that was about four blocks from her home. Sue was anxious to get there, but that day Sweet took her hand and headed out in the wrong direction. "We're taking the long way round," Sweet said.
That felt like a curse for a young child, because it meant at least eight blocks rather than the normal four! It was awful, but Sweet would not give in, so off they went. They had walked about six of those eight blocks when Sweet stopped beside a ditch that was swollen with water and tadpoles. She pulled out a Mason jar from her pocket, one that already had nail holes punched in the lid. Sweet looked at Sue Monk Kidd, smiled, and said, "Now aren't you glad we took the long way round? No tadpoles the short way."3
Sometimes for us it may be taking the long way round. It's taking time to slow down, to experience the mysteries of God all around us, to sense the wonder of God within us. It's important to acknowledge the need for a time to be still; it's planning for it; it's building it into our day. It's finding a time and a way to get renewed and re-centered and refreshed. It's being still, and letting God's presence surround us, and God's spirit fill us.
Closing Word
As you leave here this morning, slow down and live; be quiet, and look for the mystery of God all around us. And go in peace. Amen.
____________
1. "Sleight of Hand," "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden," "Surprised by Meaning," from Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D., copyright (c) 1996 by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D. Used by permission of Putnam Berkley, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.
2. Antoine Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince (New York: Harcourt, Inc., 1943), p. 63.
3. Pages 18 and 19 from When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd. Copyright (c) 1990 by Sue Monk Kidd. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
