Jack McKinney
Text: Luke 9:28-36
It Is Good for Us to Be Here
Most of our
lives play out on a long arc of familiar feelings. We go through extended periods
when we are fine, or we may feel depressed day after day, or grief may take up
residence in our hearts for weeks or months or years when we lose a loved one.
Of course these emotional patterns are interrupted by periodic moments of joy
or suffering, but for the most part our dominant mood remains unchanged.
Every once
in awhile, though, something happens that causes us to experience an emotional
rollercoaster. In a short amount of time we go through the highs and lows of
life, and everything in-between. Watching someone get in line to ride an actual
rollercoaster would be an illustration of what I’m talking about. When you
first get in line to ride this contraption that will send you hurtling through
space and turn you upside down, you are probably nervous with anticipation. You
laugh awkwardly and talk rapidly. However, after being in line for 30 minutes
the anxious anticipation turns to tedious boredom. You wonder if you are ever
going to get to the front of the line. And then you do. And suddenly you are
rocketing through the air feeling exhilaration, fear, and finally joyous relief
when it is over. Or maybe joyous relief is just how I feel when it’s over. I’ve
never been big on rollercoasters.
Our Gospel
reading from Luke 9 finds Jesus on his way to
And along
the way Jesus’ ministry continues unabated. The crowds grow larger and larger.
There is a never-ending stream of people who want food, who want to be healed,
who want to learn something from this master teacher. And I imagine if you were
one of Jesus’ disciples, managing the crush of people and demands got old.
There was probably always more work than they could handle; probably so many
constant cries for help that they grew numb to the pain they saw on every
pleading face; probably an unending fatigue they felt just trying to keep
themselves and Jesus alive. Yes, Jesus may have been making a dramatic march to
And then in
the midst of these regular, predictable patterns, something happens that puts
three of the disciples on that emotional rollercoaster I was describing
earlier. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain so that he can pray.
It’s early in the morning, or late at night, because the first thing the three
disciples do when they get up to the prayer meeting is doze off. Or at least
they are trying not to doze off. But then, as we have heard, Jesus’ appearance
is suddenly changed, and his clothes shine brightly, and Moses and Elijah
appear. And needless to say the disciples aren’t sleepy any more. No, according
to the text, they are scared out of their wits. The transfiguration, as we have
come to call this experience, turns a sleepy prayer session into the most
exhilarating, frightening, memorable moment of their lives.
I don’t know
what to make of the transfiguration from a rational perspective. These kinds of
things don’t happen at my house, and if they happen at yours I’d like to speak
with you. But in the middle of this mystical experience that is beyond my
comprehension, there is a simple, sincere statement that resonates with me. It
is Peter’s reaction to what he has just witnessed. He says to Jesus: “‘Master,
it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for
Moses, and one for Elijah’ —not knowing what he said.” Well of course he
doesn’t know what he is saying. He is sleep deprived, he’s up in that thin
mountain air, and he has just witnessed his transfigured rabbi talking to two
religious giants who have been dead for centuries. Who would know what to say
in such a situation? Emily Post doesn’t cover this scenario in her etiquette books.
But even so,
I like what Peter says. After the rollercoaster of emotions has slowed a bit,
he simply states, “it is good for us to be here.” He doesn’t know what has
happened, I imagine he never really could explain this experience later in life
to his or anyone else’s satisfaction, but his initial reaction strikes me as
genuine. This is a good thing and I’m glad I was here to see it. He doesn’t
overanalyze it. He doesn’t try to understand it. He just appreciates it. Peter
goes from sleep deprivation, to astonishment, to fear, to humble appreciation
in just a few moments. Now that’s a rollercoaster ride.
This
compression of differing emotions into a few minutes happened to me not so long
ago on a Wednesday night here at church. Someone came to get me to say there
was a woman at the back door asking for a pastor. I smiled and told the person
I would take care of it, but I confess on the inside I was irritated. I still
had a lot to do that night and my first thought was what could I give this
woman at the back door that would satisfy her immediate need and allow her to
go away quickly. I’m not proud of that feeling, but it’s honestly how I felt.
When I met
the woman she said she didn’t want anything except to talk to me for a few
minutes. And suddenly I went from irritated to suspicious. I figured she had
done this enough to know if she could get in my office she was more likely to
get something significant, not just some food or a bus ticket. Even so, I
smiled and invited her to come into my office, although my irritation and
suspicion were growing closer to anger. Again, I’m not proud of my reaction,
but it is how I was feeling.
And then
this woman did exactly what she said she was going to do. She told me her very
painful story, pausing every couple of minutes to reiterate that she wanted
nothing more than for someone to listen to her, and she did it in no more than
fifteen minutes. She cried a lot, and asked some of the searching theological
questions that we all ask, and then she was done. She looked at me and smiled,
and said, “Thank you. All I wanted was for someone to listen to me.” And then
we stood up, and she hugged me, and she left. In the course of a few minutes
with this woman I had gone from irritated, to suspicious, to angry, to
chastened, and finally I felt gratitude. It was a good thing that I had
encountered her. It was transformative in a way. She reminded me that some
people really do just want what they say they want. She reminded me that the
best thing I can do for someone in pain is listen. And her gratitude for such a
simple thing was so full of grace that I was deeply moved. Yes, it was a good
thing for me to have met her.
Our lives
are filled with so much sameness. There are unending responsibilities, and
constant demands, and little of it is easy. We battle just to keep our heads
above water and not succumb to the undercurrents always threatening to pull us
down. In the middle of that we try to do good things and be good people, though
we wonder if we are making much headway on either front. And in the midst of
this struggle that we call “life” we have a yearning. It’s a yearning for
something good to break the monotonous pattern. Some relief from the sameness.
And that yearning for something new, something different can lead us in lots of
different directions. Some of us try to buy our way out of the doldrums by
purchasing whatever it is we crave at a certain moment. Some of us venture into
unwise sexual liaisons because we are desperate for a thrill. Some of us try to
escape the monotony of life by feeding our addictions. And we fall into these
destructive patterns not because we are evil or debased. We do these things
because we are sad or lonely or just tired of a life that never seems to
change.
The yearning
that we feel, though, is a soulful yearning. It’s not a desire for a new
trinket, or a new thrill, or a chemical that will numb us for a few hours. Our
souls hunger for something deeper and more substantial. It’s an experience or
moment we long for when we suddenly realize we are in the presence of something
good, something sacred, something transformative. But the thing is, we have to
put ourselves in the places where such experiences can happen. We have to go up
the mountain even though we would rather sleep, or invite the woman into our
office even though we have more important things to do, or go to church, or
take a hike, or go on a pilgrimage, or a thousand different things that can
break the long arc of sameness in our lives. If we will put ourselves in places
where we can experience transcendent feelings, and keep our hearts open, who
knows what might happen? If you will take that risk, though, I would predict
your ultimate reaction will often be, “it’s good for me to be here.”
If