Creekside Church Sermon of February 9, 1997 "Unmistaken Identity " Mark 9:2-9	Rev. David Bibbee
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The guilt light was off, and now the red agitation light was on. "Look, I don't recognize your voice. I don't remember anything we did, and I am not interested in continuing this conversation unless you tell me who you are." He laughed and said, "David, you old blankety-blank! You could always dish it out, but you can't take it." "Alright. The game is over, and so is this conversa..." "No, wait a minute!" He said. "Is this 295-8745?" "No...it's 8746." "And you're not David Wilson?" "That's right!" Click!

It was a lot of work for a wrong number. He thought he knew who I was. A classic case of mistaken identity. The identity of Jesus is one of Mark's central themes and how slow and dull-witted the disciples were in catching on. "Who do people say that I am?" Jesus asked them. "Speak now, think later" Peter blurted out, "You're the messiah." I think Jesus was stunned that Peter got it right the first time. But while he got the answer right, throughout the gospel, he gets the implication wrong.

In today's passage, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John on an expedition up Mt. Hermon. We already have a clue that something big is about to happen. In the Bible, if you are going to have a revelation, a mountain is a great place to have it, high above the plain of human existence; up high where you see vast vistas and breathe rarefied air--up high close to God. You also have a big hint of what's going on by reading what happens before and after this story. In chapter 8 Jesus heals a blind man. In chapter 10 he heals a blind man. The two men who now see are twenty-twenty bookends for what the disciples are about to see.

When they reached the summit, and before they could catch their breath, Jesus was transfigured before them. His appearance changed. He went through a metamorphosis. They still recognized him as the same Jesus with whom they walked and talked, the same Jesus who got hungry and tired and happy and sad, just like them. But suddenly they were bedazzled by a radiant glory. His clothes shone whiter than if they had been bleached in industrial formula Clorox. The experience defied words...just like Moses' experience in Exodus. On Mt. Sinai he met God and his appearance was changed such that he had to wear a veil over his face because the people couldn't bear to look at him.

When Peter, James, and Johns' eyes adjusted to the brightness, they saw Jesus holding a caucus with Elijah and Moses. It didn't say how they knew it was Elijah and Moses. They just knew. Elijah was the greatest of the prophets, Moses the great giver of the law. Flanked by these great men who were so close to God, it was clear that Jesus had a profound role as the fulfillment of these two great traditions.

Then in the midst of this mystical moment, Peter blurted out, "This is incredible! We'll put up a tent for each of you so you can get comfortable while James gets a camera and John builds a shrine to this momentous event." Let's not be too critical of Peter. Mark says he was scared stupid and didn't know what else to say. We are no different. We know a Kodak moment when we see it. We'll frame it and put it over the fireplace. We'll hold onto it. We'll preserve it in time.

Holy transfiguring moments are a momentary parting of the curtain on what is most real. They are not given to hold onto, but to move us on. You can't manufacture them or order them like a pizza. One of the Christians mystics from the middle ages prayed a lifetime for such an encounter, and had only one that lasted mere seconds. But out of that experience came a certainty of who Jesus was and a rich treasure of spiritual and devotional writings which have guided thousands over the years.

While Peter carried on, a cloud descended upon them and I imagine a voice saying, "Peter! Quit yakking, put down the camera and tent stakes and just listen. This is my beloved Son. Listen to him." These are familiar words. Jesus heard them at his baptism. But only Jesus. At the transfiguration, they were given for the disciples. "Don't wait for another. Jesus is my beloved Son. Listen to him." Then as quickly as it appeared, the cloud disappeared, and it was just the four of them again. Notice that Jesus didn't say, "all right, men. What do you suppose can be learned from this religious experience?" Like so many other times when something spectacular happened, Jesus simply said, "Don't tell a soul." That would not be hard.

When such powerful, unexplained encounters break into our orderly, rational, pinned down world, we don't know what to do with them. "Don't tell? Don't worry. I wouldn't know how if I tried." In worship, walking down the street, or in the middle of the night you see something, an answer is revealed, you have a mountain top experience, but what do you do with it?

I used to think that if I ever had such an experience, I would be eager to tell it. Now I know better. Sometimes it is best to ponder them, like Mary. A major reason why is that we are unsure of what others will think. When I was seventeen, my best friend confided a deep, spiritual experience with me. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone, " he said. I have heard the statement many times since.

Bill Pletcher introduced me to Lee Rowe. Lee was able to worship with us a couple of times. He was dying, and one day he said, "I need to tell you what happened to me. I haven't told my friends because they'll think I'm nuts. I died awhile back and saw something I don't understand. I was in this deep canyon with very steep walls. I heard voices from above that were yelling at me. I couldn't understand them. The people were behind a high wire fence. I was walking on a paved road towards something in the distance. The closer I got, I could see it was a large table, and behind the table was a light that kept getting brighter and brighter. But as I neared the table I felt myself jerked backwards, and the next thing I know, the nurse was calling my name while other doctors and nurses were feverishly working over me.

I was struck by how his description paralleled a certain psalm about a shepherd who leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. "Who were the people above you?" I asked. "I don't know, but they were taunting me." "And they watched you walking toward a table and a light?" "You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies?"

Not every luminous moment lends itself to an explanation, but they happen to tell us something, I think, if nothing else than to say, "What you have seen and felt is real." If nothing else, I think they are given so we will pay attention. "Listen," the voice from the cloud says. "You are not alone. You are not left to your own devices. There is a way that I will show you. These moments when God draws close do not happen for the sake of themselves. They enable us to say, "I know God is real. I know Jesus is who he says." But we never stay on the mountain for long. Sunday's certainty gives way to Monday demands.

It is important to remember that as powerful and revealing as this experience was to the disciples, they still didn't know him...at least not completely. His identity was still somewhat mistaken. Peter said, "You are the messiah!" But when Jesus said the messiah would suffer, die, and rise again, Peter told him to not talk like that. The voice said who Jesus was, and still the disciples had their "who is the greatest" arguments, and Peter was in the middle of it. Peter knew who Jesus was, but he denied knowing him three times. Please remember, it wasn't on the basis of the transfiguration alone that Peter knew Jesus was God's Son.

I remember Hilbert Berger talking about his 96-year-old mother. "I feel like I'm finally getting to know her. When I was seven, I knew her as a good cook and the washer and mender of my clothes, but I really didn't know her. As the years went by I learned more facets of her life, but it has taken all these years to say with a degree of certainty that I really know her. How is it then on the basis of a decision to become a Christian, or a single religious experience that we can say we know Jesus...really know him?

Knowledge comes from experience, and experience comes from the desire to be close to the one we love. We know he is God's beloved Son as we listen to him, spend time with him, hunger for him, and learn from him. William Willmon said, "As we try to believe the voice declaring who Jesus is, there are going to be gaps, spaces between us and Jesus because we can't know everything about him. And we don't have all the answers." There are transfiguring moments when we are given glimpses of him but we don't live on top of Mt. Hermon. We live in the valley where it's hard to see and life is complicated and people hurt.

We wish it wouldn't be this way. Like Peter, we want spiritual moments to have and to hold, but if Jesus himself had a life to live and a mission to fulfill on a road strewn with rocks and rigors, then so do we. From one day to the next we may not know what's ahead, but there is no mistaking who goes with us. There comes a moment of inspiration in worship, there comes some mystic communion in prayer, there comes some unexpected feeling that grips you out of the blue and suddenly you know...you just know that he is and who he is, and despite how difficult or daunting life's circumstances may be, you trust and you move on because you have been told the beloved Son IS, and you listen to him.

I know a woman who strives to do just that. She has had her moments when Christ was incredibly close. But she found herself in a phase where she was uncertain of where he was and what he was doing. A brother she loved was dying...painfully, slowly dying. When she went to visit him she walked in as the nurse was bathing him. She stepped out to wait till they were done, but in a two second glimpse she saw his body and was shocked to see how the disease had taken its toll on him. Her brother was wasting away and where was God?

All the way home and into the night she sobbed. As we talked about the experience, I asked what image came to mind when she saw him. The image she saw was of Jesus' broken, dead body being taken down from the cross. In your brother's body you saw the body of Christ? Could this be the answer to your question, "Where is God?"

Even a moment like this is a transfiguration, and in these moments we are shown something. And even more, someone.

Who is he? The Messiah. Who is he? The one we have met and will meet again in transfigured moments which defy description. Who is he? God's Son who was glorified in suffering, and death, and resurrection, and to whom we will listen, from whom we will learn, and by whom we will live. That's who!

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