Lifted Up

John 12:20-36

John Stott was one of the most influential British evangelicals during the past fifty years   I came across this story recently.  It’s about a time when he was scheduled to preach at the University of Sydney and lost his voice.  He says:

       What can you do with a missionary who has no voice? We had come to the last night of the [evangelistic campaign]. The students had booked the big university hall. A group of students gathered around me, and I asked them to pray. But we went on to pray that if it pleased God to keep me in weakness, I would rejoice in my infirmities in order that the power of Christ might rest upon me.

      As it turned out, I had to get within one inch of the microphone just to croak the gospel. I was unable to use any inflection of voice to express my personality. It was just a croak in a monotone, and all the time we were crying to God that his power would be demonstrated in human weakness. Well, I can honestly say that there was a far greater response that night than any other night. I've been back to Australia ten times now, and on every occasion somebody has come up to me and said, "Do you remember that night when you lost your voice? I was converted that night."

What did Stott preach about which was so powerful that his message had an appeal that was not impacted by its being delivered through a voice which was harsh and unpleasant?  Stott preached about Jesus Christ.

Shortly after the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem some Greek visitors to the city attempted to see him.  This event prompted a powerful response from Jesus.  One of the most memorable statements he made looked ahead to the days to come, the days when John was witnessing the amazing growth of the church.

Jesus said, “If I am lifted up above the earth, I will draw all to me.”  All commentators agree Jesus was speaking of his impending crucifixion.  Others suggest there was more implied in Jesus’ words.  Some feel Jesus was also speaking of the exaltation that would follow the resurrection and ascension.  Still others believe Jesus had a spiritual meaning in mind:  he was predicting that if he should be “…extolled in thought, sermon, or song, people [would be] attracted to his person and message. “

Whether or not Jesus had all these meanings in mind, the history of the church has taught the church to keep Jesus at the center of its preaching, teaching, and witness. 

If we lift up Jesus, we will have a life-changing message.  How can we do this?

Whenever We “lift up” Jesus We Must Clarify His Identity.

Who died on that cross one Passover nearly two thousand years ago?  Was he simply an itinerant teacher who got in over his head when he took on the religious establishment?  Or was he Someone who can be so easily explained away?  Was he Someone who would fulfill the spiritual longings of men and women from every nation and culture?

The people in the crowd thought they knew who Jesus was.  That’s why they welcomed him to Jerusalem with the welcome usually reserved for a king.   As he rode into the city on the back of a little donkey, the crowds shouted, “Hosanna!  Blessed is he who comes in God’s name!  Yes!   The King of Israel!”  They thought they knew who he was but were wrong.  He was indeed the King, but his kingdom would be unlike any they could have imagined.

Then, too, there were Greeks—pagans, not converts to Judaism—who had been observing Jesus and were eager to meet him.   They may have imagined him to be another interesting teacher, one more philosopher who would add his perspective on the world to a growing number of ideas that the Greeks just loved to study.  But, even though his words were profound and merited intense reflection, he could never be explained simply as a philosopher.

His goal was not to get people to commit themselves to his ideas, but to call them to commit themselves to him.

Two thousand years later there remains considerable confusion about who this Jesus is.  Most people know he was a man who changed the Western world, although many in some parts of the West doubt he ever really lived.  Some believe he was a great role model, one whose life should be examined and copied—to the degree that is practical. 

Such viewpoints don’t do him justice.  His earliest critics understood he saw himself as more than a mere teacher.  Repeatedly in John’s Gospel Jesus applies terms to himself that could only be applied to God. 

And, the church’s best preaching about Jesus has been that which recognizes him as God in the flesh.  The very magnetism of the cross is explained, in part, by the identity of the one who died on the cross.

In a world where many believe God to be so remote he is almost an abstract principle, Jesus reminds us of a time when God came to endure what we endure, to walk alongside us, to die on our behalf. 

As we lift up Jesus, in sermon, song, lesson, or witness we must help; people understand who he is.

Whenever We “lift up” Jesus We Must Explain the Significance of the Cross.

John clarifies for his readers what the crowd seemed to immediately understand.  When Jesus spoke of being “lifted up” he was speaking of the crucifixion.  “He said this to indicate how he was going to die.” (John 12:33 NLT)  Earlier on Jesus’ opponents had threatened to stone him, now Jesus was alluding to crucifixion, the Roman method of execution.

It’s still possible to find those who believe Jesus death was a tragic accident, the product of runaway religious enthusiasm encountering political expediency.  Jesus died because it seemed the easiest way to deal with him.   

Jesus, on the other hand, saw the cross as the end of the long road that was his mission.  It was why he had come into the world, “the word made flesh.”  Despite the stress and agony the cross would bring, to escape it would be to abandon the reason for which he was born.  As he put it, “…the reason I came was for this time.” 

The cross is the symbol of Christianity because without the cross there would be no Christianity. 

To attempt to “lift up” Jesus without mentioning the cross would be to tell an incomplete story. 

To “lift up” Jesus by telling the story of the cross is to share the greatest love story with the world.   That love has attracted men and women to Jesus for twenty centuries.

Sadly, for some the cross has become simply a piece of jewelry, something to be worn to be stylish.  But millions upon millions know the cross as the great proof of God’s love. 

Jesus’ life and ministry had already brought honor and glory to God.  The cross would bring even greater glory as it pointed to the love of God “which drew salvation’s plan.”

Some, then and now, see nothing in the cross to suggest glory.  It meant an inglorious death.  Yet, Jesus spoke of the crucifixion as the time when he would be glorified.  John Gospel records several of those occasions and looks as some of the events in Jesus’ life in the light of this new way of understanding the cross. 

à John, speaking of the coming of the Spirit which took place following the death and resurrection of Christ, said, “the Spirit was not yet {given,} because Jesus was not yet glorified.”

à Commenting on the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, John spoke of his and his fellow-disciples’ confusion, “These things His disciples did not understand at the first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things were written of Him, and that they had done these things to Him.”

à  Then, on the night before the crucifixion, as Jesus prepared to go to the garden where he would be arrested, he said, "The time has come for me, the Son of Man, to enter into my glory, and God will receive glory because of all that happens to me.”

We can easily understand how the resurrection might be seen as glorifying, but the cross.  Everett Harrison explains, “…glory properly belongs to the finishing of the work which the Father had given him to do, since that work represented the perfect will of God.”

Sometimes we Christians endure suffering for Christ’s sake.  It’s hard at such times to see anything glorious in it.  Yet, in a larger sense, it brings glory to God as the one whose love inspired such commitment. 

It’s said that a certain medieval monk once announced that he would be preaching on the love of God during the evening service at the little chapel he served.  That evening the people gathered to hear the sermon.  As darkness approached, the chapel was nearly dark and the candle at the pulpit was burning.  Then, wordlessly, the monk took the candle and walked to the crucifix that adorned the chancel.  First, he raised it to illuminate the crown of thorns, then he illuminated the wounded hands, then he showed the spear wound on the side.  With that, he extinguished the candle.  There was nothing left to be said.

That love has drawn people from all over the world to join the hymn-writer in singing, “In the cross of Christ I glory, towering o’er the wrecks of time.”

Whenever We “lift up” Jesus We Should Rejoice in the Breadth of His Salvation.

This story begins with some unnamed “Greeks” approaching Andrew and asking for an introduction to Jesus.

Who were they?  In the New Testament, the word Hellenes never refers to Jews who primarily spoke Greek, but to Gentiles, pagans.  For some reason these men were curious about Jesus.  Greeks were well known for intellectual curiosity.  They relished the opportunity to discuss new ideas. 

But I suspect it was more than just an academic exercise that brought these Greeks to see Jesus.

His response reveals the significance of this moment to his ministry.  The interest of the Greeks was a sign that the initial phase of his work was almost complete.  The cross was only days away; then, a waiting world would begin to hear the rumors of grace as the infant church broke out of the narrow boundaries of one small nation and people.

When Jesus spoke of “all men” being drawn to him, he didn’t mean all would become believers in him.  He meant that men and women in all places and of all cultures would come to embrace the good news of salvation through him.  

Whenever We “lift up” Jesus We Should Stress the Necessity of Decision.

Jesus said, “The time has come for this world to be judged. The time has come for the ruler of this world to be thrown out.”   

The cross reminds us of God’s judgment of sin.   The cross reminds us that Satan has been defeated.  What happened on the cross was not just another criminal dying a brutal death; it was an act of cosmic proportions.  The universe was never the same.  Paul says so in Colossians,

13.  For he has rescued us out of the darkness and gloom of Satan's kingdom and brought us into the Kingdom of his dear Son,

 14.  who bought our freedom with his blood and forgave us all our sins.

The cross reminds us that we all must decide whose side we are on. 

Some who stood before Jesus were unwilling to accept him, even after so many convincing proofs.  He wasn’t the kind of Messiah they wanted.  They didn’t want a Messiah with a cross; they wanted a Messiah with a ruler’s scepter. 

Rather than debate religion with them, Jesus insisted it was time for them to decide.  Those who believed would be transformed.

``My light will shine out for you just a little while longer. Walk in it while you can, and go where you want to go before the darkness falls, for then it will be too late for you to find your way.

Make use of the Light while there is still time; then you will become light bearers.''

Those who refused to believe would be confirming their own character as rebels who refused to respond to God.

The preaching of Christ should involve a call to make a decision for or against him.  In a strange way, the judgment associated with the cross becomes self-judgment. 

In a great European museum a group of noisy, rude tourists were stopping at each famous painting and describing what they thought was wrong with it and how it might be improved.  Finally, the guard approached and said, “These paintings are not here to be judged but to judge those who see them.”

Those who profess to pass judgment upon Christ are actually passing judgment on themselves.  

Conclusion

Every church in the twenty-first century faces the temptation to add something to the message of Christ.  We want to make sure we get our converts “straightened out” as soon as possible.  We’re tempted to say “trust Christ and follow these rules” to make sure our society gets back in order.  We will not become more effective.  We will not appeal to those who feel powerless to keep the rules, to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.  We will only succeed in creating a community filled with pride at self-accomplishment and puzzled when we sing about grace.

Every church in the twenty-first century faces the temptation to abandon a Christ-centered witness, to exchange it for one that is less narrow, more congenial. We may do so and become more popular.  We will not become more effective.  We will not lead people to a life-changing belief.  We will only create a community puzzled by the cross.

Legalism Can Be Fun--But Mostly Legalism is Sneaky

The teacher laughed as she discussed the Pharisees’ rules.  She was particularly amused by the dilemma of the poor Pharisee who needed to move a chair across the room on the Sabbath.  Picking the chair up and moving it would violate the law against carry a load on the Sabbath; dragging the chair across the dirt floor would violate the law against plowing.

As much as we might wish it, legalism like that of the Pharisees was not left behind in the first century; nor did the Reformation purge it from Christianity.  And, some of these instances of legalism are as amusing as the prickly rules of the Pharisees.

There’s an account of a New England Puritan who hanged the cat because the poor beast caught a mouse on a Sunday. 

In The Cross and the Switchblade, David Wilkerson wrote of how his grandfather stood at the front of the church during “the altar call” (the “invitation,” as Baptists say) to observe any women who might come forward to receive salvation.  Should any of them have bows or ribbons on their dresses, he used the shears he carried to cut off these worldly decorations.

When I was a teenager, my Sunday school teacher warned our class we might “lose our testimony” if we were seen drinking a root beer out of a bottle.  Whoever might see us drinking from a brown bottle might assume we were drinking “real” beer.  Life was much easier three hundred years earlier.  I can imagine that Puritan comforting himself with a flagon of ale after his wife scolded him for executing such a good mouser; the point is, the rules of legalism may vary from era to era—teetotalism didn’t become a hallmark of the Evangelical lifestyle until after the mid nineteenth century.

I have a friend from a denomination known for its social conservatism.  While he attempted to plant a church in a university town, the presbytery called him to answer charges of misconduct.  He had allowed the young women in the new church to wear slacks to a bowling party.  This, the presbytery claimed, was immodest.  When my friend countered that a young woman wearing slacks while bowling might actually be more modest than if she were wearing a skirt, one critic told him, “I can remember when we preached against chewing gum and coffee.”

As petty as they might seem, I suppose nothing is really lost by following such rules.  Pour your root beer over some ice cream and you can enjoy a frothy float assured your testimony is intact.  Still, the woman who saved to buy that dress with its ribbons and bows might have regretted it being mutilated.  But, surely, that’s a small price to pay for salvation.

Of course, Grandpa Wilkerson’s denomination probably didn’t actually deny salvation to a young woman wearing ribbons and bows but, as Terry Goodkind insists, “Reality is irrelevant.  Perception is everything.”  The young girl sitting in a pew watching the snipping ritual might easily conclude either God is rather fussy when it comes to fashion or assume she had always held the moral high ground since she had never worn ribbons and bows.

Before we move on, let me offer some definitions of legalism.  The first is informal.  We can see legalism as an outlook that says spirituality may be achieved by strictly following a code of conduct that may, at times, exceed any behavior required in the Scripture and observing certain taboos that may find little support in the Scripture.  The one who follows such a lifestyle often believes he or she has attained a position of spiritual superiority over other Christians who do not live so circumspectly.  In extreme cases, legalists believe their way of life actually earns God’s favor.

A second, more formal definition, comes from The Pocket Dictionary of Theological Terms:

Legalism is the attitude that identifies morality with the strict observance of laws or that views adherence to moral codes as defining the boundaries of a community. Religious legalism focuses on obedience to laws or moral codes based on the (misguided) assumption that such obedience is a means of gaining divine favor.^_

Sometimes, the most radical forms of “Christian” legalism say salvation is a matter of “Jesus plus something else,” usually keeping certain rules or performing certain rites. 

Legalism diminishes the role of Jesus in our redemption and robs the Christian of joy that ought to come from resting wholly on Christ’s work.  Legalism suggests the “good news” isn’t quite as “good” as it initially seems.  Legalism has the capacity to transform our relationship with others—I may cast myself in the role of a judge trying to discern the lapses in another’s behavior so I can assure myself that I stand on higher moral ground.  Legalism may also redefine Christian charity; acts of kindness are never performed out of disinterested benevolence, they are done to enhance my standing with God. 

There is a further point I cannot stress too much: Legalism is insidious.   It can wheedle its way into our thinking without our noticing.  A few years ago, an evangelical known for holding some very liberal positions on certain social issues addressed a convention of WMU women.  He told them no real Christian would wear a Rolex.  Now, this man knows you can’t make such a judgment about a fellow Christian, but a kind of “liberal legalism” had found a place in his heart, probably without his knowing it.  Amazingly, he was praised for what he said; praised, perhaps, by Baptist journalists wearing Timexes. 

Legalism exploits our fears and worries.  Legalism often becomes more prevalent when society seems out of control.  We feel we need to build stronger walls to protect ourselves.

Legalism steals our joy, mars our peace, and undermines our hope.  We are left constantly asking, “Have I done enough?”  Paul’s treatise against legalism, Galatians, tells us Jesus has done all that needs to be done to provide our salvation, adding that we couldn’t do anything more if we tried. 

Lately, considering just how insidious legalism can be, I’ve been wondering if there is another, less obvious, message in Paul’s letter.

I noticed it when I was dealing with Paul’s most powerful statement about circumcision (Galatians 5:5-6).

 For through the Spirit, by faith, we eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness.  For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything; the only thing that counts is faith working through love.

Harsh as he could be at times, Paul seems to have preferred talking about God’s great scheme of salvation.  He preferred celebrating our freedom in Christ to castigating legalists.

Paul reminds us of the Spirit’s work in our salvation (vs. 5).  This is important because in any scheme of salvation based on our own efforts we are left to our own devices.  We have to make ourselves holy enough to please God and Paul had already shown that to be a lost cause earlier in the letter.

Instead, we have the Spirit at work in us.  The Spirit is at work in us, moving us to a final and perfect state of righteousness—perhaps not in this world but in the next.  Paul would tell the Ephesians, “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (2:10), so our good works are the product of God’s good work in us.  And, again, he would tell the Philippians, “For I am sure of this very thing, that the one who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus,” (1:3) implying that we are not yet all we will be but God is at work in us.

 It’s a relief to know that having begun our Christian walk through the Spirit we are not expected to complete that walk by our own efforts (Gal 3:3).

This reality gives us the proper perspective toward matters like circumcision, a really big deal in the Galatian church.

Listen again to verse 6: “As far as our relationship to Christ Jesus is concerned, it doesn’t matter whether we are circumcised or not.  But what matters is a faith that expresses itself through love.”

Paul is reminding us we may be blessedly indifferent to some outward expressions of religion.  Here Paul is speaking of circumcision.  Earlier he spoke of holy days and elsewhere he speaks of diet being unimportant to our spiritual advancement.  Paul is obsessed with Christ; he won’t let himself be obsessed with anything else.  He understands the difference between excess and moderation; he would tell the Ephesians “do not be drunk with wine” and tell the pastor of that church “drink a little wine to help your stomach.”

I have known those who felt they could judge the quality of your spiritual commitment by what was in your refrigerator or the movies you attended; some would even question your commitment if you attended movies.  We may not encounter as many such people as we once did but they’re still around, along with those who would judge your spirituality by your bumper stickers.  Paul would have never played that game.

These things may not be important but there one thing that is, “a faith that expresses itself through love.”  Paul follows this statement with a question, “You were running well; who prevented you from obeying the truth?”

The Galatians, he says, “were running well.”  As he looked back at the birth of the church in Galatia, he recalled a time of excitement in their new faith and anticipation of great things to come.  But something or someone “prevented them from obeying the truth.” 

Doubtless Paul knew who was behind the effort to derail the young church but his focus is on the enormity of what they were attempting to do. When he speaks of them being “prevented” or “hindered” he is using a military term for interfering with the forward advance of troops.  The effect of this action by the false teachers was to stop the Galatians “from being influenced by the truth.”  Those who had fallen under the spell of the false-teachers had stopped “obeying” or living in light of the gospel’s truth.

Listening to these false teachers, they had snapped the chains of legalism back onto their wrists and ankles.

Anyone who has studied Galatians knows this.  Paul wanted those liberated by Christ to live in liberty (5:1-2).  We can’t emphasize that enough. But recently I’ve wondered if we have missed a significant part of what Paul was saying because we have focused so much on only part of his declaration.  We know “circumcision” doesn’t matter; do we recall that “uncircumcision” doesn’t matter either?

In exploring this I am at a loss for words, almost literally.   There is no really good antonym for legalism.  “Antinomianism” and “libertine” both imply a complete abandonment of restraint.  That’s not what I have in mind.  Someone with a more flexible vocabulary might suggest a better term but, for now, I am going to use “un-legalism” and its variants.  Again, it may not be the best choice—I considered post-legalism, but rejected it because it assumes a previous commitment to legalism—but, at least, unlegalism mirrors Paul’s use of uncircumcision.  (In any case, most English translations avoid literally translating the term Paul uses, perhaps to keep adolescent boys from giggling during the Bible reading and older ladies from blushing.)

Like legalists, un-legalists believe their behavior demonstrates their spiritual superiority.  Like legalists, un-legalists exhibit profound hubris or pride about their lifestyle; raising a glass occasionally to toast how much freer they are than the poor legalist down the pew.  Like legalists, un-legalists can create division within a Christian community by suggesting fellow believers haven’t attained an appropriate level of spiritual maturity.  Had Jesus told a parable about a typical un-legalist, he might have imagined this prayer:  “Thank you, God, that I am not like that Pharisee.”

In writing to the Galatians, Paul was not concerned there might be those who choose to practice circumcision or observe certain dietary rules as part of their cultural heritage or to help win an audience for the gospel.  His concern focused on what people believed about these practices.

Like legalists, un-legalists must examine what they believe about their behavior.  If Dr. Pepper believes she is the superior Christian because she drinks only soda, she needs to pause a moment and examine her heart.  If Bud believes he is the superior Christian because he enjoys a beer after Bible study, he needs to examine his heart.

Of course, some Christians behave like legalists concerning some things and like un-legalists concerning other things.  We seem unable to resist the temptation to compare ourselves to others.

Years ago I heard a story about a group of American Baptist scholars visiting some Baptist scholars in Germany.  Following an afternoon of lectures and discussion, there was a banquet.  When the meal was over, the American Baptists lit up cigars and cigarettes.  Seeing this, the German Baptists were so shocked they almost dropped their beers.  (The storyteller didn’t say so but I can imagine the Americans’ cigars and cigarettes drooping at the sight of all those steins.)

If Paul was indifferent to both circumcision and uncircumcision, indifferent to whether he ate lox and bagels for lunch or a bacon cheeseburger, there was something he wasn’t indifferent to.  (If you complain about that preposition, you’re a legalist.)  He told the Galatians, “… what matters is a faith that expresses itself through love.” 

If Christians were really motivated by the kind of love Paul had in mind, they could all sit down at the table with their Cokes and Guinnesses without a dram of trouble.

In the interests of full disclosure: Though Paul might have been indifferent on the issue, I’d prefer the bacon cheeseburger.

Mountaintop Experience

TEXT:  Luke 9:28-36

I am posting tonight because I have an early-morning appointment with a donut tomorrow.

TEXT INTRODUCTION:  Mentioned in the Synoptic Gospels and Peter's second epistle, the Transfiguration is one of the most dramatic turning-points in the earthly ministry of Jesus. 

            Though the event is mentioned in three of the Gospels, none of the writers mention a specific location.  The traditional sight of Mt. Tabor may be correct but Mt. Hermon may be a more-likely place.  Both mountains are near Caesarea Philippi, but at 9000 feet above sea level Mt. Hermon better fits the description of a "high mountain" than Mt. Tabor which stands only 2000 feet above sea level.  Then, too, during the first century a Roman Garrison was stationed atop Mt. Tabor, making it an unlikely spot for Jesus to have chosen as a place of solitude.

            What's more important is the fact that the Transfiguration took place so soon after Peter's great confession at Caesarea Philippi.  There Peter, speaking for all the apostles, declared their conviction that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God.  According to the Gospel writers, after acknowledging Peter's confession, Jesus then began to speak more openly about his forth-coming death.  Peter's confession and the apostles' response to Jesus' candor about his mission is important in understanding some of the elements of the Transfiguration.

*****

SERMON INTRODUCTION

About a week after Peter's confession at Caesarea Philippi Jesus invited three of his closest followers to join him on a hike to the top of a nearby mountain.  Apparently Jesus began to pray and the disciples may or may not have prayed for a while themselves.  In any case, the three disciples became drowsy but just as they were about to nod off, they were jarred to wakefulness by a blazing light.

The light was emanating from Jesus himself.  He had been changed, He had been "transfigured" to use the term from the Revised Standard Version.  Although he was still the man they knew as Jesus of Nazareth, he appeared as they had never seen him before.  Even his clothing glowed with a brightness no human effort could achieve.

What had happened?  Perhaps the best explanation is to say that those three disciples--for a brief moment--saw their Lord as he truly was, saw him in his pre-incarnate glory.  Paul, in Philippians 2:5-11, cites what is probably an ancient Christian hymn which speaks of how the eternal Son of God temporarily laid aside his glory to become a man.  In the Transfiguration Jesus seems to have briefly reclaimed that glory.

As if seeing their Lord in his rightful glory wasn't enough of a shock, the disciples realized Jesus was no longer alone--two men were talking with him, men whom the disciples somehow knew were Moses and Elijah. 

These were two of the greatest figures in Jewish history.  Moses was the Liberator who had, after a mountaintop experience with God, brought the Law down from Mt Sinai; Elijah was the courageous prophet who challenged the wickedness of Ahab and Jezebel and who, in his own mountaintop experience, had defeated the prophets of Baal in a dramatic showdown.  These two men represented the best of Israel's spiritual heritage.

No, I don't know how Peter, James, and John recognized them.  It's tempting to suggest nametags but that's unlikely.  Remember, taking the story at face value, we have Jesus talking with one man who had lived 800 years before and another who had lived 1400 years before.  When you look at the moment in that light, getting their names straight seems a small matter.

It would be hard to overemphasize the drama of this experience.  Irish Bible teacher David Gooding explains some of its significance.

"The first effect of the transfiguration on the apostles was doubtless to convince them beyond any shadow of doubt of the real existence of the other world, the eternal kingdom.  Our world is not the only one:  there is another.  Next they were given to see that that other world is not just future to our world, but concurrent with it, though also before it and beyond it.  They further saw that though that world is normally invisible to ours, Christ had contact with both worlds simultaneously...."[1]

This was obviously a heavenly moment, one into which some very human thinking intrudes.

Luke alone tells us what Moses, Elijah, and Jesus were talking about.  They were discussing the issue of Christ's death.  As Phillips translates, they were discussing "...the way he must take and the end he must fulfill."  Imagine being able to have eavesdropped on this conversation.  A. B. Bruce, in his classic The Training of the Twelve, contends that the encounter was intended to give encouragement to Jesus as he began his eventful final journey to Jerusalem.

After the Allied victories in North Africa during W.W.II, many Britishers were elated, believing the war would soon end.  Knowing this wasn't true, Winston Churchill told the people, "This victory is not the end, nor is it the beginning of the end, but it may be the end of the beginning."  In a sense, as far as Jesus' earthly ministry was concerned, the Transfiguration was the end of the beginning.  Remember, it was not too long after this experience that Jesus "set his face to go to Jerusalem."

Seeing their Teacher speaking with two of Israel's greatest heroes, the three disciples were almost dumbstruck, almost but not quite.  In a delightful observation, Luke tells us that Peter, no doubt disturbed by thoughts of Jesus' death and not knowing what to say, said something--the wrong something.

In effect, Peter said, "Lord, this is a great meeting of the minds.  We need to take advantage of this opportunity.  Let us build three dwellings, one for each of you..."  Before Peter could even finish his thought the top of the mountain was covered with a cloud and a Voice from Heaven said, in effect, "Look, this Jesus, the one you've been following, the one who's been performing those miracles, the one who's been teaching as no one else ever taught, the one who speaks and makes sea calm, the one who brought you up on this mountain, the one who shines with such a glorious light is my Son, my Chosen One, pay attention to what he's been saying to you." 

It was, of course, a rebuke.  It came from the highest source.  God had spoken and when the clouds cleared, the disciples saw only Jesus.  A short time later they band of four men descended the mountain.  Jesus told them to keep what they had seen and heard to themselves until he had been "raised from the dead."  Even though they weren't sure what he meant by being raised from the dead, they agreed.

There's a lot in this story we could explore, but right now, I want to consider what this experience says about the nature of Christian commitment.  In short, this account reminds us that our commitment should be shaped by God's expectations.

I

GOD EXPECTS A COMMITMENT

MARKED BY

EXCLUSIVENESS NOT ECLECTICISM

Peter's proposal said a great deal.  One translation suggest he said what he said "at random" or thoughtlessly.  To put the matter simply, Peter often had trouble connecting the dots.

Consider his great confession at Caesarea Philippi.  There he had boldly and accurately identified Jesus as "the Christ of God."  Yet, only moments later Peter attempts to correct Jesus for even suggesting that he would soon face the cross.  It doesn't fit.  You don't correct God's Chosen One, but that's what Peter attempted to do.

In the same way, even after seeing Jesus in his glory Peter makes a suggestion which reveals he thought of Moses, Elijah, and Jesus as being "equals". 

Lots of people think like this today.  Jesus is worthy of honor, no less than Buddha or Mohammed, but no more either.  In fact, they have created a kind of eclectic commitment, taking what they consider the "best" from a variety of religions.  Never mind that the parts can't fit together because they come from different worldviews.

Perhaps Peter, like so many of us, believed this was the gracious, the open-minded thing to do.  We, of course, are much more broad-minded than Peter.  Peter didn't have to step outside the Hebraic tradition to make his suggestion.  We go further. We shape our religious faith as if we were choosing a meal at a cafeteria.  Perhaps this is because some 64% of Americans believe practitioners of all religions--Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, etc.--pray to the same God.  Never mind that these religions portray God in very different terms.

God's rebuke of Peter speaks to this situation as well.  For all the good Moses and Elijah may have done, God declared Jesus to be his Son, the Son who was to be heard.  It's significant that when the Voice was quiet, "Jesus alone" was seen.

God expects our commitment to be to Jesus alone.  Consider these truths:

•     Jesus alone embodies the very revelation of God.  John, who was on this mountaintop, would one day write, "The Word became flesh and we beheld his glory."  Of Jesus alone among all the great religious leaders can it be said:  if you want to know what God is like, look at him.

•     Jesus alone took his commitment to redeem a broken world to a lonely Cross.  Ravi Zacharias recently wrote of a trip he made to an Asian nation where he witnessed participants in a religious festival mutilate themselves with sharp hooks, trying to win the favor of their gods.  Zacharias commented, "What a heart cry this is to reach God.  Yet, they ignore the offer that Christ has already made in walking that road [of suffering] for them, shedding His blood, and opening up the way that we might draw near....  There is nothing, absolutely nothing that any other faith has to offer that compares with the depth and the breadth of our Lord's crucifixion."[2]

•     Jesus alone confirmed his claims by triumphing over death in his resurrection.  Lewis Johnson put it succinctly when he said, "The resurrection is God's 'Amen!' to Christ's statement, 'It is finished.'"

In his mountaintop experience Peter learned that commitment cannot be eclectic if it is to be Christian, it must be exclusive.  That degree of commitment would take Peter to a cross of his own outside Rome.  You see, such an exclusive commitment was no more welcome in the Roman world than it is in ours.

II

GOD EXPECTS A COMMITMENT

MARKED BY

ENCOUNTER NOT ESCAPISM

What do you suppose was uppermost in Peter's mind during the past week?  Jesus had spoken of his coming death.  From the moment the words were spoken Peter found them hard to accept.  No doubt, he pondered how he could keep it from happening.  The mountaintop experience gave him an idea.

Peter's program would have kept Jesus far away from Jerusalem and the cross.  The Master would be safe, in fact, saved from himself.

That this was in Peter's mind is suggested by the heavenly rebuke.  God said, "This is my Son...listen to him."  What had Jesus said?  The reference is to what Jesus had said following Peter's own confession the week before.  Look at Luke 9:23-27.

God was saying the way of the Cross is the way to glory, the way to salvation.

True, on the mountaintop there was unexcelled glory; in the valley there was unending work.  On the mountaintop there was light;  in the valley there was darkness.

Had Jesus remained on the mountaintop he would have been safe, but we would have been lost.

Had Jesus remained on the mountaintop Satan would have been unchallenged and unconquered.  That's why I think the disciples were treated to such a dramatic encounter with Satan as soon as they came down from the mountain. 

Here’s the story in Luke 9:37-43. 

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. And behold, a man from the crowd cried out, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son, for he is my only child. And behold, a spirit seizes him, and he suddenly cries out. It convulses him so that he foams at the mouth, and shatters him, and will hardly leave him. And I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered, “O faithless and twisted generation, how long am I to be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here.” While he was coming, the demon threw him to the ground and convulsed him. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit and healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. And all were astonished at the majesty of God.

Had Jesus remained on the mountaintop, Satan would have triumphed.

Had Jesus stayed on the mountaintop, there would have been no cross, no atonement, no forgiveness, no resurrection, no hope.

The church frequently has to wrestle with the escapist mentality.  Many in today's churches seem so gripped with panic, so eager to retreat to the safety of their sanctuaries that they hardly resemble the Christians of the Book of Acts who boldly challenged the power of evil.  When beaten--literally--for their commitment to Christ, the early Christians did not pray for escape, they prayed that they might have more boldness for further encounters.

Some are sounding retreat before we have even engaged the enemy. 

The way of the escapist is the easy way; the way of encounter allows us to see God's victory.

The way of encounter may lead to difficulty and even death.  It would be wrong to deny that.  But as Peter reflected on the reality of what he saw on the mount of Transfiguration, he understood that death, for the Christian, is not defeat.

Writing to a beleaguered band of Christians he reminded them that the message of hope at the heart of the Gospel had been confirmed on that mountaintop:

 2PE 1:10 Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager

to make your calling and election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall, [11] and you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and

Savior Jesus Christ.

    2PE 1:16 We did not follow cleverly invented stories

when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. [17] For he received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased."  [18] We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven

when we were with him on the sacred mountain.

The mountaintop experience which Peter shared not only revealed Christ's pre-incarnate glory, it revealed the glory which would once again be his following the resurrection.  And, the experience was a reminder of every believer's future.  With this in mind, Peter urged his readers to be faithful, to maintain their commitment.

CONCLUSION

Sometimes we speak of "mountaintop experiences" with a certain disdain.  We suggest that there's something wrong with them.  They're only a problem when we forget our place is in the valley.

--In the valley there are those who need to hear the message that Jesus alone is the Savior.

--In the valley there is evil that needs to be challenged in the Name of Christ.

In the valley we walk alongside Jesus.

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[1]  David Gooding, According to Luke:  A New Exposition of the Third Gospel, Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1987, p.167.