The Storm and the Road: Dressed in Grace - Faithfulness in Foreign Rooms

Closet History and Practical Transitions

If you walk into your home tonight, I guarantee there’s a jacket hanging in your closet that hasn't seen the light of day in years. Maybe it’s a vintage leisure suit, a heavily padded 80s blazer, or—like this high school varsity jacket I’m wearing, which I uncovered this past summer while packing up boxes during a move—a coat you keep simply because you can’t bring yourself to throw it away. Why? Because fabric holds memory.

Our church buildings work the exact same way. For Wooddale, Prince of Peace, Vista, and Spirit of Christ, our physical structures are like favorite old coats. They’ve sheltered our prayers, kept us warm through baptisms and heartbreaks, and fit us perfectly for a season. But standing in a season of building transitions feels like being caught between winter and spring—wearing a heavy parka when it’s 70 degrees outside, just not quite sure what to put on next.  

Luckily, we aren't the first ones navigating a complicated wardrobe change. If you open the Book of Genesis, you find a young man whose entire life can be measured in the garments he wore and the ones he was forced to leave behind. Listen now to the Word of God as it comes to us in Genesis chapter 39.

Now Joseph was taken down to Egypt, and Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh, the captain of the guard, an Egyptian, bought him from the Ishmaelites who had brought him down there. The Lord was with Joseph, and he became a successful man; he was in the house of his Egyptian master. His master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord caused all that he did to prosper in his hands. So Joseph found favor in his sight and attended him; he made him overseer of his house and put him in charge of all that he had. From the time that he made him overseer in his house and over all that he had, the Lord blessed the Egyptian’s house for Joseph’s sake; the blessing of the Lord was on all that he had, in house and field. So he left all that he had in Joseph’s charge, and with him there he had no concern for anything but the food that he ate.

Now Joseph was handsome and good-looking. And after a time his master’s wife cast her eyes on Joseph and said, “Lie with me.” But he refused and said to his master’s wife, “Look, with me here, my master has no concern about anything in the house, and he has put everything that he has in my hand. He is not greater in this house than I am, nor has he kept back anything from me except yourself, because you are his wife. How then could I do this great wickedness and sin against God?” And although she spoke to Joseph day after day, he would not consent to lie beside her or to be with her. One day, however, when he went into the house to do his work, and while no one else was in the house, she caught hold of his garment, saying, “Lie with me!” But he left his garment in her hand and fled and ran outside. When she saw that he had left his garment in her hand and had fled outside, she called out to the members of her household and said to them, “See, my husband has brought among us a Hebrew to insult us! He came in to me to lie with me, and I cried out with a loud voice, and when he heard me raise my voice and cry out, he left his garment beside me and fled outside.” Then she kept his garment by her until his master came home, and she told him the same story, saying, “The Hebrew servant, whom you have brought among us, came in to me to insult me, but as soon as I raised my voice and cried out, he left his garment beside me and fled outside.”

When his master heard the words that his wife spoke to him, saying, “This is the way your servant treated me,” he became enraged. And Joseph’s master took him and put him into the prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined; he remained there in prison. But the Lord was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love; he gave him favor in the sight of the chief jailer. The chief jailer committed to Joseph’s care all the prisoners who were in the prison, and whatever was done there, he was the one who did it. The chief jailer paid no heed to anything that was in Joseph’s care because the Lord was with him, and whatever he did, the Lord made it prosper. (Genesis 39:1-23 NRSVue)

Joseph’s Wardrobe Malfunctions

Joseph’s story is practically a fashion show of divine curveballs. First, his dad gives him that famous multi-colored coat, which his brothers promptly rip off him before tossing him down a pit. Then he ends up in Egypt, dresses for success, and becomes Potiphar’s top administrator. Things are looking up—until Potiphar’s wife frames him, grabs his cloak as he runs out the door, and uses his own clothes as fake evidence to land him in a prison cell. 

Joseph gets stripped down to his undershirt—no physical status, no square footage to manage, and definitely no custom outerwear. Yet, right there in the basement of Egyptian correctional facilities, the Bible repeats a steady drumbeat: "The Lord was with Joseph." 

In our Lutheran tradition, we hold to a deep truth: God shows up most profoundly, not when our buildings look like a grand blueprint of success, but when our plans get unraveled. Joseph didn't put his faith on hold while waiting for a better season; he served inside a prison cell with the very same integrity he brought to the palace. His ministry was never defined by the roof over his head, but by the God who stayed beside him. The Lord who was with him.

Unraveling the Sacred Fabric

As we consider our buildings and properties at Vista and Spirit of Christ, we know we are dealing with a sacred fabric woven over many years. Martin Luther referred to these physical spaces as larvae Dei—the "masks" or outer garments God wears to care for the world.

Through the building of Prince of Peace, God wore a coat of community outreach that eventually transformed that land into space for childcare and affordable housing. Through the sanctuary of Wooddale, God offered a cloak of hospitality for joining Prince of Peace members.

In the world of weaving, if you want to take good wool from a cherished old piece and make something new, you have to carefully unravel it first. God’s tailoring works the exact same way. To weave a new garment for our future, the old building fabric often has to be unraveled.

Spirit of Christ is at that exact threshold today, asking: How can our building and property be reshaped as a garment to bless our neighbors now? Unraveling a physical coat we’ve worn for decades is hard, uncomfortable work. But in God’s economy, letting go of a building isn't a funeral—it’s just handing the fabric back to the Master Tailor so a new shelter - a new garment - can be sewn.

Styled in Grace

The Augsburg Confession reminds us what the Church actually is. It’s not brick, mortar, or a specific architectural style. The Church is simply the gathering of believers where the Gospel is proclaimed and the sacraments are shared. That is the one outfit that never goes out of style and never suffers from deferred maintenance.

Two chapters later, when Joseph finally gets pulled out of prison in Genesis 41, Pharaoh dresses him in fine linen and a gold chain. But those high-end clothes weren't given to him so he could strut around—they were his larvae Dei - the garments given to him by God for his vocation through which he would feed a starving world.

Our ultimate legacy isn't holding onto real estate. It’s taking the equity wrapped up in our bricks and mortar and using it to clothe our neighborhood in practical hope—feeding the hungry, supporting families, and sharing grace.

Dressed for the Future

God’s presence has never depended on the specific sanctuary we’re standing in or the architectural style of our walls. Whether Joseph was in the foreign halls of a palace, the damp stone of a prison cell, or stepping out into an unknown future, the constant thread throughout his story remained the same: The Lord was with him.

And the Lord is with us, too.

We don't have to erase our history to step into what’s next. We can cherish the old coats that sheltered us—the sanctuaries where we wept, celebrated, and encountered God—while still having the courage to lay them down when the season changes. We don't need to fear standing in this middle place, this quiet waiting room of transition. The One who clothes the lilies of the field is the Master Tailor who is already gathering our threads, unraveling what was, and weaving our future together in grace.

So let us step forward with open hands and confident hearts. Let us trust that as the outer garments change, the Body beneath them—the living, breathing Church of Jesus Christ—remains warm, vital, and ready to clothe this world in love. Amen.

Preached Sunday, September 27, 2026, at a joint worship service with Vista and Spirit of Christ Lutheran churches.

The Storm and the Road: Leaving the Baseline

In the house where my brother and I grew up, there was a heavy, battered trunk sitting up in the attic, covered in decades of dust. When we were kids, my brother pulled it down and restored it as a 4-H project—painstakingly cleaning off the grime, fixing the iron hinges, and bringing the wood back to life. Today, that trunk sits in my home, a constant reminder of our shared history.

Every time I look at it, I am reminded of what it actually represents. It wasn't built to be living room décor or a project to win a ribbon at the county fair. It was built for survival. My ancestors, perhaps like yours, packed everything they owned into that box, locked the latch, and walked away from their homes in Northern Europe to cross an ocean into a completely unknown future. So many of those early immigrant families wrote back home in their letters and journals comparing their trek across the Atlantic and onto the Midwest prairie to Abraham’s journey, truly believing they were seeking a new "promised land."

We tend to look at old family heirlooms with a kind of cozy nostalgia, but that trunk was born out of sheer risk. Leaving the familiar was terrifying for those who came before us. But they did it because they believed God had a future for them that couldn't be found by staying put.

We often fall into what we might call the baseline fallacy—the subtle belief that our original starting point, our comfortable home or familiar past, is the only ideal state in which to exist. But our ancestors understood a hard truth that we so easily forget: We cannot follow God into the future if we are married to the way things used to be.

Long before that trunk crossed the Atlantic, an elderly couple stood in the dust of Mesopotamia facing the exact same choice. We read of them today in Genesis, chapter 12. 

Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

So Abram went, as the Lord had told him, and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran. Abram took his wife Sarai and his brother’s son Lot and all the possessions that they had gathered and the persons whom they had acquired in Haran, and they set forth to go to the land of Canaan. When they had come to the land of Canaan, Abram passed through the land to the place at Shechem, to the oak of Moreh. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. Then the Lord appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring I will give this land.” So he built there an altar to the Lord, who had appeared to him. From there he moved on to the hill country on the east of Bethel and pitched his tent, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east, and there he built an altar to the Lord and invoked the name of the Lord.  And Abram journeyed on by stages toward the Negeb. (Genesis 12:1-9 NRSVue)

Notice what happens when Abram finally arrives in the land God promised. He doesn't build a fortress. He doesn't lay a concrete foundation. He does two very intentional things: he pitches a tent, and he builds an altar.

The tent is a statement of transience, signaling that we are not settling down into comfort, but ready to move whenever God says move. The altar is a statement of faith, declaring that God is right here, in this temporary place, right now.

When Abram built those altars along the road, he wasn't trying to build a fortress or guard his self-interests. He was simply taking what he had in his hands and using it to mark the places where God had met him. His whole life was given to the journey, not to playing it safe.

We naturally crave the fortress. We want permanent walls, predictable routines, and the safety of what worked yesterday. But throughout Scripture, God rarely meets God's people in static comfort. God shows up on the dusty road, in the wilderness, and in the transition—the places where we are forced to depend on God because our usual safety nets have been pulled away.

This hits close to home for all of us.

Seven years ago, Wooddale and Prince of Peace gave up their individual identities to merge into Vista. That was not a simple administrative decision. It was a loss. It meant closing doors, moving furniture, and grieving spaces that held decades of weddings, baptisms, and quiet prayers. Then came the storms of cultural shift and the isolation of pandemic years.

For the last seven years, it has often felt like we’ve been living in a holding pattern or a long waiting room. But waiting rooms are not wasted space. In Scripture, those holding patterns are where God deepens our faith, shapes our character, and prepares us for what comes next.

Now, seven years in—entering this holy Sabbath cycle of processing our shared memory—this fall is our dedicated season to pause on this journey. We are here to do the sacred, necessary work of looking back together. We are here to reflect on where we have come from, to give ourselves full permission to grieve what has been lost, and to also name the new, positive life that has emerged along the way.

Today, we are launching our Merged Timeline Wall in the hallway. Each one of you is invited to step up to that timeline wall over the next few weeks, to map your own origins and history, to tell your own story. And, together, to honor every single stream that has brought us into this room in this moment. 

Right now, in this fall season, our primary task is to pause, reflect, process, and offer our lives to God right where we are, getting our hearts ready for wherever the road leads next. Taking that road forward doesn't mean forgetting where we came from. It means honoring the legacy of those who went before us by exemplifying their courage, not just preserving their old structures. 

So, let us honor our story, build the altar where we find ourselves today, and trust that the God who called Abram into the unknown is the very same God holding us now.

May it be so. Amen.

Preached September 20, 2026, at Vista Lutheran Church, St. Louis Park, MN.

The Guarded House: The Sacred Handoff

 If you’ve ever watched the 4x100 meter relay at the Olympic Games, you know it is forty seconds of pure adrenaline. You have eight lanes of the fastest human beings on the planet, but raw speed alone almost never wins the race. The entire thing hinges on three tiny, high-stakes exchange zones.

In just twenty meters, about 66 feet, two sprinters running at top speed have to pass a single baton. One runner is reaching backward blind, accelerating into the open track. The other is coming up behind, completely exhausted, having poured out every last drop of energy. We’ve all seen what happens when it goes wrong. One slight fumble, one second of hesitation, one runner holding on a fraction too long out of fear or miscommunication, and the baton clatters onto the track. In an instant, world-record pace turns into total heartbreak.

Transitions make us nervous because handoffs force us to let go. They require absolute trust.

Over this past month, as we’ve walked through 1 and 2 Timothy together, we’ve talked about how easy it can be for a church to watch the exchange zone with anxious eyes. Coming off a long period of transition, it would be completely natural if there’s been a little quiet fatigue in the air, or even anxious moments of wondering what comes next. When any community goes through a long season of waiting, it’s human nature to hold our collective breath, to clutch our resources out of fear, or to wonder if the baton might drop.

But today, as we wrap up this series, Paul points all of our eyes away from our own anxious hands and toward the One who actually owns the race.

Listen to these final words written from a cold Roman prison, as Paul prepares to hand off his ministry to Timothy.

3:14 But as for you, continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it 15 and how from childhood you have known sacred writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 16 All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, 17 so that the person of God may be proficient, equipped for every good work.

4:1 In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I solemnly urge you: 2 proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage with the utmost patience in teaching. 3 For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound teaching, but, having their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires 4 and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander away to myths. 5 As for you, be sober in everything, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, carry out your ministry fully.

6 As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come. 7 I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. 8 From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

16 At my first defense no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be counted against them! 17 But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. 18 The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and save me for his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen. 

–2 Timothy 3:14–4:8; 4:16–18 (NRSVUE)

It’s easy to read Paul’s famous words about finishing the race and assume this is a story about human grit. We picture Paul as a heroic figure sitting back, like a retired athlete - proud of his own stamina. But the historical reality was cold, dark, and complete desperate.

Scholars debate the exact origin and timing of this letter, but if we take Paul’s authorship as authentic, it puts us around 66 CE. The Roman emperor Nero was blaming Christians for the Great Fire of Rome, and Paul was sitting chained in the Mamertine Dungeon—a damp, foul underground cistern in Rome. His friends had abandoned him, and he was legally branded a criminal. From a human perspective, everything was collapsing around him.

So why isn't Paul panicking? Because Paul knew who was actually running the show.

In that dark dungeon, Paul reminds Timothy that Scripture is, in the Greek, theopneustos—breathed out by God. The Holy Spirit is the active breath inside the Word, breathing life into dead places, teaching us, grounding us, and equipping us when human strength runs out. Paul calls the Scriptures "sacred writings"—the exact Greek term used for imperial Roman decrees. He was declaring that neither Nero, nor any other emperor, had the final say over history. God’s divine decree rules the universe, and as we heard in an earlier chapter, physical chains cannot bind the Word of God.

Paul also knew that Timothy might feel overwhelmed stepping into the future. But Timothy wasn't being asked to rely on his own power. Think of our reading from Exodus and, specifically, Joshua standing on the banks of the Jordan River after Moses died. Imagine the fear of stepping into those shoes. God didn't hand Joshua a checklist or tell him to try harder. God gave a divine promise: "As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you".

The anchor of every biblical transition isn't the talent of the person receiving the baton; it is the unchanging presence of God.

Collectively, as Vista, scripture shows us that long seasons of waiting or structural endings are never signs that God has left the building. They are holy thresholds where God carries us into something new. Our legacy churches finished their race so God could plant this merged community. Interim seasons ended so Christ could lead us into our next chapter together. Jesus Christ has been standing right beside Vista through every single day of these past seven years, and the Holy Spirit never put this church on pause.

But this passage isn't just a collective word for a church building or an institution. It is an intensely personal word for our lives right now.

We are living in times that feel incredibly fraught. The world outside these doors can feel hostile, unstable, unpredictable, and exhausting. You might be carrying your own private transitions, your own losses, or quiet anxieties about your family, your health, or where our culture is heading. You might be looking at the world around us and wondering if things are falling apart.

Paul wrote these words to Timothy in a world that was actively falling apart. And the message to Timothy—and Christ’s message to us today—is this: we do not have to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. When the ground beneath our feet feels shaky, when human support systems wobble, and when the times feel dark, the promise remains personal: The Lord stands by us and gives us strength.

Whether we look at Vista as a whole community or look into our own individual lives tomorrow morning, we are not holding everything together by our own fragile, anxious power. God is holding us. The same Lord who stood by Paul in a Roman dungeon, the same God who accompanied Joshua across the Jordan, is the exact same Lord standing at our thresholds today. God will not fail you, God will not forsake you, and God is holding both our church’s future and your personal life securely in divine hands.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Preached Sunday, August 9, 2026, at Vista Lutheran Church, St. Louis Park, MN.

The Guarded House: Holding The Scaffolding Lightly

The Embodied Posture And The Text

Before I say a single word this morning, I want to invite you into a physical exercise. Wherever you are sitting, bring your hands out in front of you. Now, close them. Squeeze them into a tight, clenched fist. Squeeze until your knuckles turn white. Feel the tension traveling up your wrists, into your forearms, and tightening your shoulders.

Hold it there for a moment.

This is a universal posture of self-preservation. It is what we do when we are anxious. When we are afraid of what we might lose, or when we are uncertain about the future, our basic human instinct is to clutch tightly. We close our hands around our resources, our workflows, and our lives.

Now, take a deep breath, and let it out. Slowly open your fingers. Turn your hands over so your palms are facing up. Let your hands relax into an open palm. Notice how the tension leaves your arms, how your shoulders drop, and even how your breathing shifts.

With your hands open, listen to our reading today from 1st Timothy, chapter 6.

There is, of course, great benefit in religion, but only for those who are content with what they have. 

We brought nothing into the world, nor have we the power to take anything out. If we have food and clothing, we have all that we need. Those who want to be rich are falling into temptation and a trap. They are letting themselves be captured by foolish and harmful desires which draw us down to ruin and destruction. The love of money is the root of all evil. Some people, in their passion for it, have strayed from the faith and have come to grief amid great pain. 

But you are to flee from these things. As one dedicated to God, strive to be a person of integrity and piety, filled with faith and love, patience and gentleness. Run the great race of faith. Take firm hold of the everlasting life to which you were called when, in the presence of many witnesses, you made your good profession of faith. 

Before God, who gives life to all, and before Christ Jesus, who spoke up as a witness for the truth in front of Pontius Pilate, I charge you to keep God’s command without fault or reproach until our Savior Jesus Christ appears. This appearance God will bring to pass at a chosen time. God alone is the Sovereign over all, the blessed and only ruler above all earthly rulers, who alone possesses immortality, and who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no human being has ever seen or can see. To God be the honor and the everlasting kindom! Amen. 

Warn those who are blessed with this world’s goods not to look down on other people. They are not to put their hope in wealth, for it is uncertain. Instead, they are to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with all that we need for our enjoyment. Tell them they are to do good and be wealthy in good works. They are to be generous and willing to share. In this way, they’ll create a treasure for the future, and guarantee the only life that is real. --1 Tim. 6:6-19 (The Inclusive Bible)

The Posture Of Prolonged Transition

As a community, you have been navigating a long transitional chapter. Two and a half years of a pastoral vacancy, and seven years past a church merger. When a transition runs this long, it is entirely natural for a congregation to experience a deep, hidden exhaustion. We get tired of waiting. We get tired of the uncertainty.

And when that exhaustion settles in, we often unconsciously start acting out of fear. We begin to think, "If we just hold on tight enough to what we have left, we will survive."

We start clutching our funds out of fear of an imaginary rainy day. We clutch our workflows—clinging to the way we’ve always done things because controlling the process gives us a temporary illusion of safety. We even clutch our property, viewing our buildings as liabilities to be protected rather than tools to be used for the neighborhood.

Ask yourself honestly: Where have you noticed this tightening in our church lately? Where are we closing our fists?

Theologian Edward Pillar warns that, when a church becomes consumed by anxiety, it can easily start worshiping its own survival. The preservation of assets promises safety, but it actually keeps us spiritually stuck.

A Warning From The Wilderness

This is a very old spiritual trap. Long before Paul wrote to Timothy, Moses warned the Israelites about it as they stood on the edge of the Promised Land. In our reading from Deuteronomy this morning, he warns them against a specific danger: forgetting where their help comes from once they get comfortable. He says, "Take care that you do not forget the Lord your God... when your gold and silver is multiplied."  

When we get anxious about survival, we fall into the trap of thinking that real ministry, spiritual vitality, and the true abundance of this church are entirely paused until a new pastor arrives. We treat the present moment merely as an obstacle to survive.

But as we heard in the reading, Paul offers a radical alternative: true gain is found when godliness is combined with contentment.

Redefining Contentment And Godliness

In the ancient world, contentment meant absolute self-sufficiency—needing no one. Today, institutional contentment means massive financial reserves and perfect control over our programs. But the Christian framework flips this entirely: true contentment is rooted in the sufficiency of Christ. It is the freedom of depending on God rather than our own control.

And what is godliness? It isn't a method of scoring points through perfect religious behavior. Godliness is simply "God-with-ness." It is walking with God in the present moment rather than frantically trying to manage the future. It is learning to live along the journey. As another theologian, Jaclyn Williams notes, along the journey is precisely where we learn, grow, and build true community with fellow travelers.

Are we missing the grace available to us right now because we are so focused on the next chapter?

The Vista Mandate: Deploying Abundance

Vista is an established community with deep roots and real resources. By the standards of this world, we are wealthy. Near the end of today's reading, Paul directly addresses people in our position. He commands those who are rich in this present age not to be haughty, or to set their hope on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.

The mandate before us today is to move from a mindset of scarcity to the economy of God’s kingdom. True stewardship is not saving assets out of fear; it is deploying our combined abundance to bless our neighborhood right now.

To do this, we are called to be rich in good works, opening up our property and structures for community care rather than internal comfort. We must be generous, releasing hoarded funds to meet immediate, tangible local needs. Finally, we must be ready to share, shifting our attitude from "Come to us" to "How can we serve you?"

Conclusion: The Life That Really Is Life

True wealth is not found in the survival of an institution. It is found in our loving care for one another and our God-given freedom to hold our structures lightly.

When we unclench our fists, we finally become empty enough to receive the baseline, overflowing abundance of God's kingdom. Let us lift our hands, open our palms, and take hold of the life that really is life.

May God grant it. Amen.

Preached July 19, 2026, at Vista Lutheran Church, St. Louis Park, MN.

Basking in the Glory

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “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.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” (Matt. 17:1-9 NRSV)

Have you ever noticed the number of important things in the Bible that happen on a mountaintop?

We have examples in our readings today. In our first reading, we heard the story of Moses receiving the ten commandments from God. On the mountaintop. 

In the psalm--a psalm that celebrates the enthronement of a king, we heard where God crowns God’s king. On the mountaintop. 

Even, over the past few weeks, where we’ve heard Jesus lay out a vision of God’s kingdom and the place and role of disciples in that kingdom, where did it happen? Yes, on the mountaintop.

Over and over again throughout Scripture, we have stories of these important events that happen on mountaintops. And, do you notice that almost always, it is after these mountaintop experiences happen, that we see change. Whether it is a change in situation, a change in direction, a change in relationship--nearly always, it seems, there is change.

In the chapters leading up to our Gospel lesson today, Jesus has been preparing his disciples for the coming change. He’s instructed them and sent them out on a first time mission experience. He’s mourned the death of John the Baptist with them. He’s continued to heal and to proclaim the coming of God’s kingdom. He’s continued to teach the disciples and to more fully prepare them to go out into the world. And he’s been challenging the status quo, angering many of the Pharisees and Sadducees--Jewish leaders in the temple and synagogues. 

Then, comes Chapter 16--the chapter just before our text today. In verse 21 of this chapter, we read that “from that time, Jesus began to show his disciples that he had to go to Jerusalem and suffer many things...and that he had to be killed and raised on the third day.” 

And Peter--you just can help but love Peter, can you? Because when Jesus tells them what is going to happen, Peter says “No way! No way will this happen to you, Jesus!”

Then, this mountaintop experience. This Transfiguration. This appearance by God who, once again as at Jesus’ baptism, says, “Yes, this is my Son. I love him. I am pleased by him. Listen to him!”

In this one declaration, God affirms to Peter, to the disciples, and to all of us that everything Jesus has predicted, that the path that Jesus is about to begin, this path that will take him down the mountaintop, onto the streets of Jerusalem, into the temple, and eventually back up onto a mountaintop, where he will be crucified on a cross--in this one declaration, God affirms that this is the path he has chosen for Jesus. For us.  And for all people.

And, as much as he wants to deny it, Peter knows that this mountaintop experience will lead to change that is so hard and so unimaginable, that he just wants to hold onto it for just a minute or two longer. To not let go of this experience. To simply bask in the glory of Jesus’ presence.

This Transfiguration experience is a threshold moment. It comes at that moment between what was and what is to come. It is a transition point to change. It demands a reorientation and it sometimes comes when we are not yet ready to move into that new place. Like Peter, we, too, want to hold onto what we know. What feels safe. 

I know something about this. For years, my pastor was after me to answer God’s call to go into ministry. At every opportunity, she would wonder with me about the possibility of becoming a full-time worker in the church. Year after year, she would ask. And each time, I resisted. I came up with every excuse. I needed to finish raising my son. I didn’t have the education. I couldn’t afford to leave my good-paying job. And on and on.

And then, a transfiguration moment for me. An unexpected lay-off. A moment between what was and what was to come.

Change is incredibly hard, isn’t it? It’s not that we don’t see it coming most times. It’s not that we don’t often recognize the need for it. It’s just that we wonder if we’re ready. If we can handle it. If we’re prepared for whatever that change may bring.

This Transfiguration story is a fitting story for us here at Grace and Glory as we begin to both transition into Lent and into another way of being God’s people in the world. Change is, by its very definition, the simultaneous holding onto what was and looking forward to what is to come. It’s the very definition of what is essential to our Christian faith--that we exist in a place we really don’t want to be.

That’s why it was so hard for Peter. That’s why it is so hard for us. And, yet, perhaps the best thing we can do is to simply be like the disciples on that mountaintop as they witnessed the deep love of a hidden God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ.  To simply bask in the glory of this mountaintop moment, in the tension of this threshold moment, this moment between what was and what is to come.

To bask in the glory and, like the disciples, to simply be in awe of this transcendent God. A God who comes down to meet us. Who we learn of here in worship--through Word and Sacrament. A God who loves us deeply and who promises to be with us. Yesterday, today, and forever.

So, listen for this God. Look for God in your lives and in the world. Search for God, even at those times when God doesn’t seem present. Because it is often in moments like this, just as in our story today, that God breaks in and reveals himself. And leads us to change and a new way of being in the world. 

Amen.

Preached on February 26, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Transfiguration Sunday.
Readings: Exodus 24:12-18, Psalm 2, 2 Peter 1:16-21, Matthew 17:1-9.