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United Church of Paducah
4600 Buckner Lane
Paducah, KY 42001
(270) 442-3722
Worship Times
Sunday Service: 10:00a
Refreshments &
Fellowship: 11:15a
Christian Education
For All Ages:
11:20a - Noon
Nursery Services Provided Handicap Accessible
All Are Welcome!
A Congregation Of The
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From February 3, 2008
We Couldn't Go if We Didn't Know
Matthew 17: 1-9
Six days later, at the top of a mountain and
in the presence of three disciples, Jesus is transfigured.
His garments blaze with light and a glory more stupendous
than the sun shines from his face. Israel's greatest
prophets, Moses and Elijah, appear and confer with Jesus,
inspiring Peter to devise a plan to house them. A voice from
the heavens points Peter and his friends in a more fitting
direction. "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well
pleased; listen to him!"
Six days laterthese three little words matter.
Before the transfiguration, important things were taking
place. Jesus was struggling yet again with the religious
establishment, who yet again could not see him for who he
was. Jesus then turned to his disciples and asked them to
tell him who ordinary folks thought he was and after
listening to their replies, Jesus put the question to them.
Who did they think he was?
Peter blurted that Jesus was the Messiah, which prompted
Jesus to elaborate. Being the Messiah would mean, Jesus
said, embracing suffering and even death. But on the third
day he would be raised. All Peter managed to hear was the
first half--the part about suffering and death--and so he
shouted out a loud "No!" (It would take Peter and the others
a long time before they would see how being true to God's
good news means being unwilling to compromise, even when
doing so puts a person at risk.) Jesus continued teaching
the twelve, impressing upon them that his way was every
disciple's way. "If any want to become my followers, let
them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
After so much talking and explaining, Jesus took a breather.
Then six days later, he led three of his disciples to the
top of a mountain. It was there that the men witnessed a
series of mysterious events so astounding they fell down in
fear. "Get up and do not be afraid," Jesus said, helping
them to their feet. Then he led his disciples down the
mountain and back into a hard and hurting world.
Timing is everything, the old saying goes. Timing is
everything. Jesus' transfiguration comes at the perfect
moment in his ministry. Happening just when it does, the
transfiguration shows what Jesus has been made of all
along--God's pure and powerful light. It also gives a
foretaste of what is to come; Jesus' quick flash of
mountaintop glory won't really be seen in full until after
the darkest of dark days, until after his crucifixion.
The disciples Jesus took with him to the mountain would need
this holy moment; it would enable them to move forward in
faithfulness. It would help them step with Jesus toward the
cross. It would prepare them inwardly for Easter's great
shining.
Today we stand with the disciples and claim the power in
their experience. It enables us to do in our time what they
did in theirs--to pick up our crosses and journey with Jesus
toward Jerusalem, toward those situations and realities so
needful of the shining light of God's pure love. Situations
and realities which offer no guarantees of success or safety
but which love calls us to enter into nonetheless.
Discipleship demands that we go down the mountain, but we
could not go if we did not know. If we did not know how,
even before Easter, even before resurrection, God's glory is
already here to light our way.
Not long ago, I read a story about a couple who attended a
football game that pitted two strong rivals against each
other. No, the game wasn't exactly the Superbowl, but it did
have the husband and wife on the edge of their seats the
entire time. One minute they were cheering wildly and the
next they were holding their breath. With just a few seconds
left on the clock, the winning touchdown came--and the
couple's team won! When they got home, their exhilaration
gave way to exhaustion. The competition had been that
fierce.
The next day, the game aired on television and the two
lounged on the couch to watch. This time the two were merely
casual observers. When one commented on this, the other
explained. "We already know the score."
In and through Jesus' transfiguration, Gods aim was to help
the disciples know the score. Even before the clock ran out.
Even before Jesus suffered and died. To proceed, the
disciples needed to know the score. That way no matter what
came, no matter how down and dirty things got, no matter how
dark and depressing and deadly, the disciples would know.
Maybe not in full, but at least in part. Enough to move them
forward.
Because of the transfiguration, the disciples would see that
Jesus was full of God's glory, a glory that you and I know
would not and could not be defeated. Because of the
disciples' mountaintop experience, they recognized that
Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God, one worth listening
to, one worth relying upon, one capable of lifting them up
out of fear and into peace.
Even when the game seemed to be going to God's opponents.
Especially then.
Tuesday night while clergy from around the Indiana-Kentucky
Conference were singing hymns together, someone burst
through the doors and interrupted our worship. "I need your
attention. I need your attention. We need to move to
safety."
The man's voice was full of authority and alarm. "We are in
the direct path of" and before the fellow finished his
sentence, I finished it for him. Meeting near the
Indianapolis International Airport, my mind flashed on a
sequel to the events of September 11th. For a second, I
feared we were on under attack and on the verge of World War
III.
Quickly--and thankfully--I was proven wrong. A tornado, not
a mad bomber, was headed our way. And so we hustled our
hymnals down into the basement and continued on.
I went to bed that night troubled by my overreaction. It
wasn't like me to tap into fear. Then at breakfast the next
morning I understood. Without even realizing it, in the days
leading up to the retreat I had so identified with the
crisis in Kenya and David Okong'o's situation in particular,
that something in me was left feeling in jeopardy, too.
Over eggs and bacon, I confessed my response the night
before. "Even if the worst does happen," a breakfast
companion remarked, "I am not afraid. I know that God will
meet me at my death and wrap me in eternal love." And then
she proceeded to describe her experience as a peace activist
in violence-ridden South African during apartheid, a time in
which her life was quite literally on the line for the sake
of love.
This minister already knows the score, you see. Not just
with her head but with her heart. With her body, even. And
this knowledge frees her to live and love and make choices
born of courage; she knows that the glory that is God's love
is always shining. Even when the mountaintop moment has
passed.
Before we begin our descent into the shadowed season of
Lent, we gather here with the disciples. We look on as Jesus
is transfigured before our very eyes, he who is far from
having completed his journey. We stand with the disciples as
God pulls back the shades and lets Jesus shine, shine,
shine.
We instinctively know how to let that light in; winter
living teaches us how. After too many days of grey, when the
sun comes at last (like it did yesterday), we soak in the
light, the warmth, the day's radiant goodness.
We do this without even having to be taught. And we store
it, somehow, and carry it into the next grey day. And even
when it fades, which it will, we move forward trusting that
the light will be back. And that it will stay.
Just as Jesus stood blazing on the mountaintop, perched on
the edge of a descent into darkness, so we, too, on
Transfiguration Sunday, gather in his light knowing that he
calls us forth, down into Lent, that holy and yet horrible
season in which we allow ourselves to see what Jesus saw:
life's shadows and sorrows and even our own sin, our own
complicity, our failures in love that work against God's
reign, against God's will.
We could not go, I don't think, if we did not know. If we
did not know exactly what Jesus was made of while he lived
and now, as he lives in and among us. We could not go into
Lent and on into Jerusalem, indeed we would not, if we did
not already know--somewhere, somehow--that even when
everything looks as if it will play into the hands of the
opposition, God's love will win. And that, my friends, is
not only glorious, it's the glory of the Good News. Amen.
© Rev. Karen Winkel
United Church of Paducah (UCC) I have adapted
the story of the football fans from Marion Speicher Brown's
contribution to The Upper Room, January 28, 2008. |
"Never place a period where God has placed a comma." - Gracie
Allen
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Please join us for a special viewing of
Paper Clips
on May 4th at 12 noon.
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