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Creekside Church
Sermon of February
21, 1999
"Leaving Room
for Mystery"
Matthew
17:1-9
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Rev. David
Bibbee
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My
wife loves mysteries. At 10:00 p.m. on weeknights she is sacked
out on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn watching Sherlock Holmes
and (Hercule) Poirot employing their superlative detective
skills sifting through complex plots and following the trail
of evidence to catch the murderer. The other night Twig asked
if I liked mysteries. "They're okay," I said which translated
means, "I'll watch them if there are no fishing shows or ballgames
to watch."
Mysteries
don't appeal to me, but mystery does. Mysterium tremendom
is Latin for "tremendous mystery". It expresses what is
inexpressible. Mysterium tremendom is to be in the presence
of God in such a way that neither words, categories, nor
concepts are adequate to describe the experience. The Bible
is a record of God's mysterious ways. Christianity is not
the result of our successful search for God. Our encounter
with God is not an achievement; it is a gift. We do not
find God. We are found by God.
I will
share some thoughts with you today about the need for a
mystical component in our faith. There will be no vitality
in our relationship with the Lord if there is no room for
a transcendent experience of God's majesty and holiness.
I know people who have dropped out of the church, not because
of a crisis in belief, but because there is a lack of imagination
and mystery in worship which they need to feel close to
God. Without mystery, worship and the spiritual life are
hollow.
Annie
Dillard says this kind of church resembles a bunch of cheerful,
brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute. "We
stand around having coffee and small talk with the tour
leader, oblivious to what the Absolute is all about. Does
anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blindly
invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of
it?"
Our
lesson today describes a mystical moment experienced by
Peter, James and John. Jesus took them up on a mountain
to pray. In the Bible, when someone climbs a mountain, you
can be sure that something big is about to happen. What
better place to encounter God than on a mountain? On a mountain
Moses met God and was given the Ten Commandments, and on
a mountaintop the disciples saw Jesus transfigured-his face
was radiant, his clothes brilliant light. Moses and Elijah
dropped in for a chat, a cloud descended over them and a
voice said, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him."
What
do we do with such a story? Encounters like this don't happen
every day. Peter wanted to preserve the moment-get a handle
on it, draw out the implications, make some life applications.
This amazing revealed Jesus' identity. Moses and Elijah
disappeared and only Jesus remained, God's beloved Son.
And the disciples were appropriately on their faces, filled
with awe.
What
are we to make of this story? In a world come of age, it's
hard to take a story like this at face value. If a story
doesn't conform to our experience, we dismiss it. There
doesn't seem to be much room left for mystery these days.
When this was written, people had a primitive, very limited
way of making sense of the forces at work around them. We
live in an enlightened age. What ancient people called a
miracle we explain with the scientific method. We think
that with a rational, reasoned approach, there isn't anything
we can't figure out.
The
only reality is that we can see, touch, and explain. Something
isn't real if it can't be weighed, measured, or reproduced
in a laboratory. The future isn't guided by invisible forces,
but by the Dow Jones Industrials, the Consumer Price Index,
and the gross national product. There is little room for
mystery, only mastery. We can control whatever we understand.
There
is mysterium tremendom all around. I know a Presbyterian
minister who related this story. A dear friend named Dudley
had recently died and this pastor and wife spent the night
with Dudley's widow. That night he had a dream about Dudley.
He dreamed he was standing at the foot of the bed wearing
the navy blue sweater he often wore. The pastor told Dudley
how much he was missed and how good it was to see him. Then
he asked, "Dudley, are you really there? Are you real or
am I dreaming?" He said he was. "Can you prove it?" "Of
course." Then Dudley pulled a blue strand of wool from the
sweater and tossed it to him. It felt so real he woke. It
was as if Dudley had come on purpose. He told the dream
at breakfast, but before he finished his wife said she saw
the blue strand on the carpet while getting dressed. She
was sure it wasn't there the night before. They rushed upstairs,
and there it was.
What
do you make of something like this? Was it just a dream?
The blue thread could have been there a long time. Nothing
more. Or maybe it's evidence of something more.
Ten
years ago I dreamed I was back in seminary taking a test.
The professor distributed pictures of abstract art which
we were to interpret in an essay. I couldn't make any sense
of mine. Next thing I knew I was holding a light bulb, wondering
where it had come from. Then a voice said, "Ask it anything
you want." This dream took place during a dark, difficult
time when I was in a spiritual desert. God seemed remote.
So I asked the light bulb, "Does God desire a relationship
with me?" I held it up to my ear and a voice simply said,
"Yes." "This isn't happening," I said to myself. I asked
the question a second time. Again the answer was, "Yes."
I started laughing, then I noticed a classmate also holding
a light bulb. "Ask it anything you want," I said. He asked
it the same question, held it to his ear, and I could tell
by the look on his face he had received the same answer.
A psychiatrist
might say these dreams were the result of our unconscious
working through an issue. But for me it was a communiqu‚
from God, which came when I needed it most. The pastor who
dreamed of his friend asked, "If I had to bet my life on
whether it was real or not, which would I bet on? If you
had to bet your life, which would you bet on...yes, there
is a God in the highest, and mystery and meaning in the
deepest, or no, things only mean what you choose them to
mean?"
Few
of us have ever had mystical mountain top experience like
the disciples. But being a believer calls for a willingness
to embrace what can't be explained.
There
is one thing christianity in not...it is not reasonable.
God coming into the world as a baby is not reasonable. God
dying on a cross between two crooks isn't reasonable. Paul
calls it, "Foolishness." But what cannot be grasped with
the mind or expressed with the tongue can be expressed on
bended knee. To the disciples Jesus was a brilliant teacher,
a charismatic preacher and compassionate healer, but on
the mountaintop he was revealed as the Savior of the world,
and a wave of awe rolled over them.
Being
a vital Christian leaving room for mystery. This is the
information age. We are told that those who will make it
in the world will know how to access and use information.
But life isn't facts and figures. When reason rules, when
we are numbed by knowledge, when there is no sense of God's
presence in life, we become hollow and hungry. It's a hunger
that is evident in the church.
The
church is told over and over again that to attract people,
it must be relevant. Boil the Bible down to a level people
can understand or tolerate. Distill it into manageable points
and principles and "how to" lessons. Follow the five spiritual
laws. The purpose of going worship is to hear practical
applications in our daily lives; something we can use to
be better people. Obviously we need to learn how to live
and behave as Christians. But too often we leave worship
thinking more about what we should be doing about it rather
than being caught up and losing ourselves in wonder over
what God has done for us.
We
do not worship to have our needs met, or share our joys
and concerns, or enjoy the company of nice people. There's
something missing in many worship services today...God.
Little attention is given to beauty in music and the worship
environment. There's a lack of imagination, majesty and
dignity...little to inspire wonder in God, His love and
grace. There is no mystery.
Years
ago I wrote a parable about a boy fishing on a riverbank.
A man saw him and said, "What are you fishing for?" "Just
fish," the boy said. The man was a zoology professor. He
saw a stringer with three fish tied to the bank and said,
"Those are nice pomoxis nigromaculatis you have there."
The boy looked confused. "They're just fish to me." The
professor then pointed out the features of the fishes' anatomy
and other fish facts. The encounter changed the boy. No
longer was a fish a fish or a bird a bird. He became so
engrossed in identifying and studying creatures that he
became a zoology professor. Then one day he realized something
was missing from his life. Something had been left behind.
Now he goes down to the river with his son in hopes of recovering
the capacity to "just fish."
I see
there is something missing in our worship and daily walk
with the Lord. Our need isn't more knowledge. Paul never
said we are stewards of the knowledge of God. We need to
humble ourselves because there is much about God's ways
we will not grasp this side of eternity.
Paul
said we are servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries
of God. After the disciples saw Jesus transfigured, they
saw the world through different eyes. Throwing their lot
in with God's son meant rethinking what was possible and
impossible. Will the same be true of us? Will we assume
more than a rational, reasoned approach to following Jesus?
Will we allow ourselves to be overcome with awe when Jesus
parts the curtain and gives us a glimpse of God's grace
and glory? Will our worship become a divine encounter with
God? Will there be room for mystery in our lives?
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