Rev. Keith Morgan

The story is told of a man who visited a stately old cathedral church while attending a convention in a large city. At one point during the sermon he was so taken by the pastor’s words that he let forth a mighty “Amen!” Immediately the head usher came back to his pew and said: “Please keep your voice down. You are disturbing those around you.” The visitor apologized and continued listening to the message. A short while later he was touched again and shouted even louder: “Amen!” The usher came back a second time, and in less than a tactful manner said: “Sir, your outbursts are disrupting our worship!” The gentleman once again said he was sorry. About ten minutes before twelve the minister was bringing the sermon to a climax when he struck a chord deep inside the stranger on the back pew. So, a third time he belted out, even louder than the first two times: “Amen!” Whereupon the usher stormed back and confronted him saying: “If you don’t be quiet I’m going to make you leave!” “I just can’t help it,” the man replied. “I’ve got that old time religion.” The usher responded: “Well, you didn’t get it here. So be quiet!!”

I suspect there are a fairly large number of folks in the church like that head usher. They are good people with a sincere faith. They want a place for Christianity in the world, but they grow uneasy any time religion gets out of hand. They are frightened by religious fanatics and consider themselves too sophisticated to be seduced into, what they believe, such a shallow mode of religious expression.

If you are one of those creatures, this stands to be a very uncomfortable day for you. Our passage assigned for today tells of the transfiguration of Jesus, one of the most interesting and bizarre stories in all the Bible.

After He went about preaching and teaching in Caesarea Philippi, Jesus’ ministry began to be plagued with all kinds of controversy. The more popular He became with the common people, the more of a threat He became to the governing authorities. It was quite plain to see that Jesus had to travel to Jerusalem, though He knew in advance that the Holy City held nothing but trouble and turmoil for Him. Like so many times before, He withdrew to a mountain for a period of solitude and meditation, taking with Him His three most trusted disciples - Peter, James and John.

In the middle of the night Jesus was transfigured right before their eyes. His total appearance changed. His face shown as if a great light focused on it, and His garments were as bright as if they had been set afire. And it was in the midst of such a highly suspect encounter that the three disciples believed they saw Moses, the great lawgiver, on one side of Jesus, and Elijah, the great prophet, on the other side. And, in addition to all that, they thought they heard a voice from the heavens saying: “This is my Son, my Beloved; listen to Him!” How is that for old time religion?

Peter, James and John were filled with fear and awe, as any of us might have been. They were saturated with a wonder and confusion. There was a feeling in the air that was so intense and gratifying that Peter suggested that they build three booths, one for Jesus, another for Moses and the third for Elijah. The ecstasy of the moment was so utterly fantastic that Peter wanted to preserve it forever.

But such was not to happen. Moses and Elijah eventually disappeared into the clouds, the intense emotion gradually subsided and Jesus finally invited the three disciples to accompany Him back down the mountain where they could rejoin the others as they ministered in the valley.

It makes no difference to me if you take the transfiguration of Jesus literally or figuratively, the truth is still the same. There on top of that mountain the disciples began to see Jesus in a totally different way. Whatever took place made them realize there was so much more to Him than they had previously known. He was not just a man of God, but the Son of God. He was not just a messenger preaching about the Kingdom of heaven, but the Messiah ushering in the Kingdom. There in the midst of more mystery than they had ever encountered, Jesus became the ultimate authority in their lives. They went up the mountain infatuated with His philosophy. They came down the mountain committed to His cause. He was transfigured before them, but they were transformed because of Him. That is why they followed Him, not just all the way down the mountain, but also all the way to the cross.

Somewhere along the way, every Christian needs an experience like that. We may not see visions of Moses or Elijah. We may not behold the face of Christ shining forth like a beacon in the night. But at some point we must encounter that same kind of mysterious revelation where we realize that Jesus Christ is as much our Savior as Peter, James and John’s, that the end result of such an insight is that we will eventually be called to pick up our cross as they were finally called to pick up theirs.

Now listen carefully here. I am not suggesting that all Christians must undergo some emotionally-wrenching unexplainable vision. Not every disciple came into the early church through a “Damascus Road Experience” like the Apostle Paul. Neither am I implying that religion is nothing but unbridled emotion. I grow weary of those Christians who, just like Peter, try to preserve their mountaintop experience by doing nothing but recounting how it happened. It is almost as if they made slides of their transformation, and are always looking for a chance to show them again. Not only can they tell you the day and hour of their conversion, but they will tell you time after time after time. It is very possible to abuse the emotional aspect of religion, and there are many who have done it.

What concerns me today, however, is precisely the opposite. Perhaps an even greater problem among Christians today is that more and more people have never known what it is like to go up on the mountain or they have forgotten their mountaintop experiences. They have accepted the Christian Faith as a philosophy of life that makes sense and which calls them to be better people. Week after week they sit in their pew, sing in the choir or participate in their class or special group. They are religious people just like Peter, James and John were before going up on top of the mountain. They think faith is quite important, though they are cautious enough never to let it get out of hand.

But over the years these people slowly lose heart. Day after day they live in the valley under all kinds of pressures and in the presence of many types of tensions. They try to witness to their discipleship in a society that finds it convenient to look the other way. They attempt to address the social ills of their community in spite of the fact they are frequently rebuffed. When it comes to religion, they give it everything they have got. But soon they discover what they have is not enough. After a while they begin to lose momentum. They start by missing a Sunday or two now and then. Before long they are absent by the month. Then, usually in response to some traumatic situation, they drop out altogether. They are not angry nor are they unrighteous. They have been crucified a number of times in the valley because of their faith. That is not their problem. Their dilemma is that they have never had a mountain top experience. They have never had that uplifting kind of experience which impresses upon their heart that Jesus is their Redeemer and that He offers to them all the power and perseverance of the Kingdom of God. Without some kind of experience that lifts us out of ourselves, we will never be committed to anything bigger than ourselves.

We know this is true in other avenues of life. Youngsters hear about love from their earliest years. They read books, watch movies and listen to all types of music about what happens when two people feel an intimacy between them. They know all about it. Then the day arrives when it happens to them. It is not that they learn something new, but that they experience something with so much more depth than ever before. It is a mountaintop experience.

So why is it that such a principle is accepted in all other avenues of human existence, but is often overlooked within the realm of religion? Is it because we feel no need for such an encounter? Or is it that we fear what might happen to us if we ever allow our religious zeal to get outside of our control?

Ralph Waldo Emerson was one of the most spiritual writers of his day. Yet toward the end of his life he wrote to a close friend: “I do not believe that more than three hours of my life have I been vitally conscious of the presence of God.” Three hours against a lifetime seem so insignificant, but when we see what those 180 minutes did for his perception of life and commitment within it, we know how important they really were. Once people have made it to the mountain, they never look at life the same again.

God does not want Christians only to fool around on the mountaintop. Neither does God want disciples only to fret around in the valley. God wants Christian people of faith to love and witness in the valley, but keep the vision of the mountaintop in their hearts. When believers have been mystified on the mountaintop, they never forget who they are.

I had a professor who told of a time he was sitting quietly on a hill overlooking the great city of Edinburgh, Scotland. He noticed a peasant walking up the hill. The man finally sat down beside him, and after a long period of silence, turned and asked: “Got a match?” My professor nodded, and the old man took out a pipe and lighted it. There was a second period of intense silence. The man’s coat was torn and dirty, his hands were dirty, but there was a particular glow about his face. After what seemed like an eternity, the old man spoke: “You know, I am a shoemaker by trade. I live down there in the city by the cowgate. It is an unclean place. Where I live, they are swearing and drinking and fighting all day, every day. But every now and then I climb up here on the hill and take a look at this to remind me that I am more than flesh.”

And so are we. May your mountaintop experiences sustain and nourish you as you live, work, and minister in the valley.