Matthew 17: 1-9
Mountain Men
Moses was a mountain man. He was called up Mt. Horeb to meet with The Lord, and from the mountain he brought down to the people The Law. The tablets of the Law were God’s grace to the people, a code and a means of being in relationship with God who is holy—a way to preserve their blessedness. Moses asked to see God’s glory, but God knew it would be more than he could bear, so he allowed to see God’s back for a mere second. That was enough to change Moses forever. He came down the hill looking like a man who has stood in the very presence of God. Moses is the The Law, the prophet who delivers the Law of God.
Elijah was a mountain man. God called Elijah to stand before him at the top of the mountain. There was wind, and an earthquake, and fire, but God was not in these. Elijah met The Lord as a whisper amidst the silence. He came out of his cave with his face covered so that he would not see the glory of God and die. Elijah is the prophet of prophets. He symbolizes all the prophets and was the greatest of the Old Testament prophets.
Both Moses and Elijah were reputed to have been bodily assumed into Heaven. Moses died but was not buried in the Earth. His body was taken up. Elijah did not die, but was taken up in a chariot of fire, superceding the image of Ba’al, the pagan storm god.
Jesus is also a mountain man. He ascends the hill, but unlike Moses and Elijah, he brings three witnesses: Peter, James, and John. While on the mountain, Jesus is transfigured before them, appearing a dazzling—literally lightning—white. Peter, James, and John hit the ground and look up to see Jesus there with Moses and Elijah—the Law and the Prophets—gathered there with him.
God’s own voice testifies to Jesus: "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" This is the ultimate in authorization. Jesus is revealed in the glory of God the father attended by all the weight of the Old Testament. Unlike with Moses and Elijah, there are three first-hand witnesses to this miracle.
Peter, who was so afraid he had no idea what to say, does his best: "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."
When the earthly meets the divine, the earthly clearly has very little to offer. Christ appears transfigured in glory with the two main players of the Old Testament, and what does humanity offer? Some pup tents. But he meant well, and I’m sure that counts for something.
It’s very normal, very human, to try and capture something of the mountaintop experience and try to contain it, to possess it, in order that we might access its power later on. It’s normal and natural to want to make some kind of souvenir out of the experience, but trying to do so is kind of like trying to put a lion into a birdcage. It doesn’t work.
Like Peter, Christians have been trying to encapsulate that glory ever since. At first, we tried to capture it institutionally—by turning the Church into a worldly, imperial power. The Pope took on the name Pontifex Maximus and we tried to encapsulate the authority of God in the magisterium—the authority structure of the Church. Then it was in artwork—statues of Mary and Jesus that seemed to contain the presence and power of God; the consecrated bread that was the promise of God’s actual, literal encapsulation; holy relics that contained healing powers, etc. That’s all pre-1600.
In our time, what are some of the pup tents we invite God to inhabit? For some, it is the church building—the sanctuary pews and windows that represent hundreds of hours of faithful meditation. It has been said—wisely, I think—that there is nothing quite so traumatic to a congregation than to build a new sanctuary. I get it! With the investment of years and dollars we come to think of this space as a dwelling place for The Lord, and if we mess with it, that might all change!
More significant in our time is the ongoing attempt to capture or encapsulate the Holy Spirit in ecstatic worship. The idea that the Holy Spirit can be rounded up and manipulated into making a “special appearance” if we are all just sincere enough, or authentic enough, or if we observe the liturgy just right.
I think we are all embarrassed by televangelists selling prayer cloths, olive oil from the Holy Land, or vials of water from the Jordan river, not because they are trying to capture God’s power and presence, but rather because they are trying to exploit it.
Again, it is normal for us to want to contain our special experiences of God in some way, but we willing to simply accept and work with whatever God gives, rather than trying to bottle it or trying to make God perform for us. We work with what God gives us as it is, not what we would like to make of it.
What God Gives is Enough
To seal this point, let’s remember what Jesus said to Peter, James, and John as they came down the hill together. Think of it: they have just witnessed the glory of God in Jesus, supported by Moses and Elijah, in a transcendent moment of transfiguration. This is every bit as big as the burning bush moment of Moses or Elijah’s encounter with God on the mountain. As they descend, they’re saying, “Wait until the world hears about THIS one!” when Jesus says, “Not a word, boys—not one word—not until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
The most exciting and wondrous thing has happened to them. Something life-changing and world-changing—a revelation worthy of a new book in the Bible—and they can’t tell anyone! They have to bury it, sit on it, and wait until God’s time for sharing it is ripe.
At a certain level, new converts are perhaps the best evangelists. They’re lives have been turned around and changed forever by Christ. They have the joy of the new life and are bursting with urgency to tell everyone of the good news that redeemed them from sin and ruin. With wide-eyed enthusiasm they will tell anyone within earshot of their journey and the difference Christ made in their heart, life, and hope. New converts are a blessing to the Church and their energy can be an eye-opener for many of the hard-hearted.
Even so, it’s not usual to see that same energy and enthusiasm play out over the long-term journey, especially as others follow their lead but do not have the same experience. Or worse, such folks try to turn the whole church into a factory to reproduce that spiritual high experience. Again, the Holy Spirit can not be engineered by us.
We must take what God gives as enough for us.
What we have is his self-revelation in Christ as witnessed to in Scripture. That is our source, and even this is prone to pup tents and reductive encapsulations. Make it simpler, boil it down, or turn it into a 3-point doctrine that we can easily memorize—these too are attempts to put the lion into a birdcage.
The truth is, God is not ours to proffer or sell. Our witness cannot make the great revelation of God in Christ simple and we shouldn’t try to simplify it. When and wherever our evangelism says, “It’s easy,” “It’s simple,” or “All you gotta do is this,” we misrepresent The Lord. We offer people our pup tents rather than the glory of God.
Truer that we should say
It is better and truer that we should say just the opposite.
“It’s not easy; it is hard and takes your entire life to work out.”
“It is not simple. It may seem simple at first, or at peak moments, but it is very deep and complex. The longer you look into it the deeper and broader and higher it goes.”
“Following is a major chore. After decades I’m still working stuff out in my life, my heart, and my behavior. Sometimes I wonder if I’m making any progress at all.”
[Protesting voice]: “But if you said all that, then who would follow?” A good question.
The hungry, the thirsty, the poor, the lame, the blind, and all prisoners of sin and darkness who are truly called—in short, the true believers.
As evangelists, people will connect less with the ideas we tell them than they will with changed lives. What is every heart secretly hungry for? Peace. The peace of Christ that this world cannot give. A satisfied mind, made whole and complete by mature faith. To be loved, for exactly who you are as God made you to be. Some grace—forgiveness for being a sinner. Mercy—a helping hand now and then.
These are the most effective evangelical tools with which you and I can be equipped. They are not ideological, nor are they strategic or tactical. They are personal, and every one of us in this room can manifest them.
Our central evangelical task is not to transmit information about God’s plan of salvation; it is to show them Christ resident within us. Otherwise, what is the point of all our attempts to “grow into Christ” or “into the full stature of Christ”? Our best evangelism is to give people Jesus through ourselves. Yes, the teaching accompanies it and the new disciple’s soul grows into alignment with God’s will, but by many markers, not just one or two popular symbols like the Sinner’s Prayer or a one-time attempt at producing a born-again experience.
Offering the knowledge of salvation through Christ is part of sharing the gospel, but we must not reduce it to a formula or a single, one-size-fits-all plan or prayer. Love persists, and those who are beyond belief deserve better than a drive by offer.
Perhaps the best evangelism is the kind that takes place while one is being discipled. We proclaim Christ and share his good news as we go, offering people the peace, the contentment, the love, the grace, and the mercy of Christ through our words, actions, and deeds. †